Find My Way
by madeleine68
Summary: Alex has been hurt so much in the past, and even now she can't let Olivia in. She'll hurt her, just like all the others. Will Alex finally be able to let her guard down, and allow Olivia to love her? A/O THE LAST CHAPTER IS UP! Review for more!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Dick Wolf. **_**C'est la vie**_**.**

_It's a Wednesday, and it's raining. I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of pretending to be brave. This time, I really have to be._

_She keeps her hand on my arm, and if anyone else saw the two of us together, they would think it's a protective gesture, but really it's a possessive one. Her nails dig into my arm, leaving little crescent moons imprinted in my flesh, but I don't dare to pull away._

_The umbrella is really big enough for both of us, but she keeps it to herself, at her height. She's shorter than me by a few inches, even though she's two years older. At first, I didn't mind the age difference, but now I wonder if it was a mistake. If maybe things would have been different if I were with someone my own age._

_Maybe._

_My hair is damp, and I can't wait to get to her house, although I know what comes next, and what I have to do. I've made up my mind that it has to be today. It has to be. I can't let her hurt me anymore. I have to be strong._

_How ironic. No boy ever hurt me, but she did. Maybe my mother was right, that it is a sin for us to do what we do, and that's why I must be punished, and I deserve it. So I will be a good girl and stop myself now, go back to the safety I may find in the arms of a boy my own age, although there will be nothing more there. I am me, and nothing can change that on the inside, but on the outside I can protect myself. And God – and my mother – will never know the truth. They will think I was just questioning my identity, as teenage girls do, but now I am normal again, and I'm okay._

_It must be this way. It must be._

_We reach her house. My heart is pounding as she unlocks the door and lets us in. She makes herself a cup of hot chocolate, but doesn't offer any to me. Which is fine, I suppose, because I'm too keyed up to drink some anyway. Still, it might have been nice._

_She glances pointedly at the ground, expecting me to kneel for her as I always have before, but not today. This ends today. It has to. "No," I say, then brace myself for the slap; for speaking out of turn, for saying no; hell, for just being there._

_Her face contorts. She reels back and hits me hard, but I'm expecting it, and though it hurts, I still don't get to my knees. I stare right back at her, unflinching. I won't lower myself, not this time, not today. Never again._

_She smacks me again, and I blink back the tears in my eyes. I won't let her see me cry._

"_You're going to be punished," she says coldly._

_No. I already hurt too much. My ribs from where she kicked me this morning. My back from where she belted me the other day. My face where she's just slapped me. My legs, my neck, my breasts, my inner thighs. Everywhere._

"_No," I say again, and I stand my ground. The word sounds good on my tongue, a word I haven't used in what seems like an eternity, especially not to her._

_This time, I'm ready for the slap, and when her arm extends, I grab it and twist it behind her back. She's stronger than me, but I've surprised her. I've never fought back before._

"_We're over," I tell her, and I don't look back. _

_When I get home that day and tell her, my mother bursts into tears of relief. "You're young," she says. "Only fifteen. You can start a whole new life for yourself. You're not a _lesbian_. Not my Alexandra."_

_She kneels beside my bed and pulls me down with her, even though my knees scream with pain. I had to kneel on rice a few days ago, and my knees still hurt, but I can't tell my mother that. I don't want to hear her say, _I told you so_._

_My mother prays for God to forgive me for my sin. Me, I pray for my broken body, and my broken soul._

* * *

**Fifteen years later**

It's been a tough case. Who am I kidding? It's always a tough case. Maybe that's why I do it, to punish myself as she once punished me. Every case I lose cuts through me like the kiss of her whip, and all I can do is try my best. I try to separate the cases from my former self, but I can't. It's too hard, and when I completely detach myself, I lose every case. So I've built up my walls. I am the Ice Princess, and no one sees past the façade.

Except Olivia. God, it would be so easy to fall into her open arms, to tell her all about the pain I still carry with me every second of every day. She's done it so many times, asked me if something was wrong, asked me out for coffee, for lunch, for dinner. Every single time, I've said no, to protect myself. I know she won't hurt me, but I know that it would be too easy to fall back into my old ways, and if I do, she _will _hurt me. Because it's wrong. The way I feel is so, so wrong, and I will never act on my feelings again. Let it never be said that Alex Cabot doesn't learn from her mistakes.

"Alex."

I jump, then relax when I realize it's just Olivia, standing in the doorway. _Just _Olivia. That would be minimizing her importance to this team. Who am I kidding? Her importance to _me_.

She offers me a sheepish smile, and I melt inside. She has the most beautiful smile in the whole world.

No. It's wrong to think this way. I can't, I can't, I can't. I _can't_.

"Alex?"

I realize she's said something, but I haven't heard. "Sorry?"

I can't deny the feelings I've had for her since day one. I know what I am, but that doesn't mean I have to accept it. That doesn't mean I have to act on it.

She examines me more closely with those huge brown eyes that I've drowned in from the start. "Alex, are you okay?"

I nod. "Fine." But I don't think I'll ever be fine again.

"I know this case has been tough for you. It's been tough for me, too. If you ever need to talk . . ."

"I know." She's said this before, but I never take her up on the offer. I can't.

She sighs. "I asked if you wanted to come out for a drink with us."

I do. God, I do. But I don't, and moreover I can't. "Not tonight, Liv. I have plans."

She quirks an eyebrow, and it takes me a minute before I realize: I've called her _Liv_. I've never done that before. It's too intimate a gesture.

"Sorry," I say quietly, although whether it's for my refusal or for calling her _Liv _is anyone's guess.

"Someone to get home to?"

"Stop fishing," I snap, then wince. I shouldn't be taking my own self-loathing out on her. She's just being a friend. She is nothing like that girl who hurt me so many years ago. Even if I'm attracted to her, that doesn't mean she is to me. She's just a normal person who wants to be my friend, whom I can't let in because I've been hurt before by people who pretended to care about me. It's not her; it's me. It's all me. It always was. I was bad, and she had to punish me. I deserved to be punished. And if I go back to my old ways, I still do.

"Alex," Olivia says quietly, pulling me out of my reverie. "Are you sure you're okay?"

_No_, I don't say. To her, I respond in the affirmative, because this new Alex Cabot, the Ice Princess, always has to be okay.

She has to be.

**Review for chapter two!**


	2. Chapter 2

I can't sleep. This isn't news; I don't think I've had a good night's sleep in twenty years. But still.

I pace the apartment, which is actually quite a distance when it comes down to it. The penthouse is practically bare, and I think that my nightly pacing probably burns more calories than my morning runs. Not that it matters much, anyway. Even if I was supermodel-skinny, I would still be ugly, and no one would ever love me. She made me ugly, all those years ago. I see it every morning, when I change into my work clothes and try not to glimpse my reflection in the mirror. I can't bear to see the deadened look in my own eyes, or the scars that still mar my fair skin. She wanted to hurt me, and she did. I'll never forget what she did to me.

That was the point.

She said no one else would ever love me, that I wasn't good enough, that she was the only one for me. I know in my head, from what I've seen in my line of work, that she hurt me and she lied, that she chose me because I was easy to control, because I was younger, weaker, questioning my sexuality. That made me easy prey.

But some people deserve to be hurt. Maybe I was one of those people. Maybe I still am.

What I did was wrong. But then, when I see Olivia out, laughing with one girl or another, it doesn't seem so wrong for _her_. We are the same, but she is perfectly at ease with herself, with her sexuality. She wouldn't understand my shame.

But even if I have feelings for her, she could never have feelings for me. She could never love me.

Or am I just worried that I could never love her back? That I'd be too afraid to?

* * *

A few weeks later, she asks me out. I can tell that this time, it's different. It's not a meal between friends, but an actual _date_. There's a flash of insecurity ghosting across her features, an expression I've never before seen on Olivia's face. And it scares me.

"I'm straight," I tell her, as if it'll be true if I say it enough times.

"But I thought –"

"It was a mistake." In more ways than one. I'm not sure if we're talking about the same thing anymore, but we might be. Then again, we might not be.

"Okay." I see the way her shoulders droop as she turns to walk away. I want to call her back, but I can't. The words stick in my throat.

I wonder if I'm pretending to be straight because I want to be, because I actually believe it's wrong, or simply because I need to be. Self-preservation is a survival instinct, and I can't take any more pain.

* * *

Olivia mostly avoids me after that, though whether it's out of embarrassment or disappointment, or even confusion, is anyone's guess. Me, I can hardly bring myself to meet her eyes either, but then, I can hardly bring myself to meet _anyone's _eyes. She's the only one who's tried to help me, the only one who seems to care, and I've pushed her away.

A self-fulfilling prophecy.

I haven't prayed in years, but now I do, every night before bed. I get down on my knees, wincing at the memory of the scars still there, the scars she put there, and I pray that Olivia will find it somewhere in her heart to forgive me.

For what, I don't know.

* * *

Olivia knocks on the door to my office one day, and when I tell her to come in, she stands awkwardly in the doorway, clearly unsure how close she can come without invading my space. She clears her throat. "I have the file you asked for."

"The Dobbins file?" She nods. "Thank you, Olivia." I'm careful now. I won't call her _Liv _again. I measure my words, and make sure each is the exact one I want to say.

This is how it must be.

She takes a deep breath. "Alex, I'm sorry if I offended you, by asking you to come out with me. Maybe I misread you. But I do want to be friends. If that's okay with you."

It is, but it isn't. I can't let her get close. So I shake my head, and when she leaves, looking more dejected than ever, I lay my head down on my desk and wonder where I went wrong.

I don't cry, though. I _don't _cry.

**Review for chapter three!**


	3. Chapter 3

I am a wreck. I haven't slept in three whole days, but I can't. I know if I do, I will dream. I can't dream. I can't wake up screaming ever again. I can't thrash around with nightmares, or even, God forbid, wet the bed. I've done that twice now, because once upon a time, she locked me in her closet and tied me up, made me sleep there as a punishment, and I wet myself. Whenever that memory drifts back into my subconscious, I wet the bed again.

The nightmares are awful. It's like I'm back there, being beaten all over again, and I can't take it.

No. I'm bigger now. Braver. Stronger. She wouldn't be able to hurt me, even if she was here. She can't hurt me anymore.

But she can. She's inside my head, always, telling me not to sleep, not to get too close, not to love, not to do anything. She's on my body, all over, in the form of tears and scars. She's in my blood. I will never be able to forget her. I will never be able to release her. I will never be able to let her go. She's a part of me now, and she always will be.

So I work. I don't even go home some days. I leave a spare set of clothes in my office and spend the night doing paperwork, practicing openings, closings. It's probably why I've climbed so high on the political ladder in such a short time, because of my work ethic.

Little do they know.

I sit at my desk and start going through my open cases, deciding which to work on tonight. I have eighteen of them, each one worse than the last. They make me so sad, but then they make me feel better, because there's something I can do to make it better for these victims, like I couldn't do for my former self.

They like me. They trust me, somehow. Maybe they can tell that I was one of them, once upon a time. It's possible.

I'm tired, but I won't sleep. I don't dare.

But five minutes. Five minutes of rest after 72 long hours won't hurt me. It's after midnight; everyone else has gone home. It's okay.

I lay my head down on my desk and for five minutes, I'm at peace, with myself and the world around me.

* * *

_I'm curled up on the cold hardwood floor next to her bed, where I sleep when I'm being punished. I flinch at each of her quiet snores. The pain in my back is so intense, and I'm trying not to let the open welts come into contact with the floor, but it doesn't work. I bite my lip to stifle my cry of pain. I am _not _weak. I will _not _cry._

_I hear the bed creak and tense, wondering if she's awake. Sure enough, her voice drifts toward me. "Are you awake?" It's soft, gentle, like it used to be, a lifetime ago._

"_Yes," I whisper back._

_Her voice hardens, and it's back to the authoritative tone that makes me cringe. "I'm thirsty."_

"_I'll go get you a glass of water."_

"_I don't want water."_

_I look up at her. "What would you like me to get you?"_

"_Diet Coke."_

At three in the morning? _But I know better than to argue, so I get up and pad toward the kitchen, rummaging in the fridge for the can of soda. But there isn't one left; we drank them all last night. I freeze, dreading the beating that I know awaits me, but I know there's no point in postponing the inevitable. I have to be strong._

_I bring her back a regular Coke and kneel beside the bed. "I'm sorry, ma'am," I say quietly, like the good little girl I've been taught to be. "There isn't any Diet Coke in the fridge, but I brought you a regular Coke."_

_Her hand comes out so quickly and smacks me hard. "I don't want a regular Coke. I'm on a diet, remember?"_

_I chew on my lower lip. "What would you like?"_

"_Diet Coke."_

"_I'm sorry, ma'am," I repeat. "But there isn't any left."_

"_Then go out and get me some!"_

_I should know better than to argue, but I guess I haven't learned yet. "It's three in the morning. Nothing's going to be open."_

_It's the truth, but that doesn't stop her from punishing me. With the strap-on, because she knows I hate it. She ties to me to the bed and thrusts inside me, over and over, and this time I can't stop the tears._

* * *

"Alex? Are you okay?"

I start awake and sit up straight to find Olivia standing in the doorway. Shit, I must have fallen asleep.

"Yes," I say quickly. "I'm fine." I hesitate, rubbing my bleary eyes. "What time is it?"

"Six," she replies.

"Oh, sorry."

"Why? You didn't do anything wrong." She passes me a tissue, and it takes me a moment before I realize there are tears still in my eyes.

I wipe them away. "I'm okay," I say, but it's more to reassure myself than Olivia.

She sits down beside me anyway. "You were having a bad dream, Alex. It is okay."

That makes me angry, even though I know it shouldn't. She's only trying to help, after all, but I've been dealing with these nightmares for fifteen years, and I've been doing just fine. I don't need her.

Or maybe I'm just denying myself the one thing I want – the one thing I _fear _– most. Which is Olivia.

Which is someone to love me. Which is someone to hold me when I cry and soothe me after a particularly bad nightmare. Which is someone to treat me well, and never hurt me.

She hesitates, for just a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?"

God, Olivia, of course I don't. If she'd said, "Will you tell me about it?" I might have, so I could pretend I was doing it for her instead for myself. But she didn't. She asked me if I wanted to. And obviously the answer is no.

I flinch when I feel her hand on my back, rubbing soft, comforting circles. I don't know why she feels that such an intimate gesture is appropriate between us, but I don't mind it, not really. I gradually relax and let her rub my back. It feels . . . nice. And not in a sinful way, either. Just between friends, between one person who cares about another. Olivia does care about me. Really, she does, even though I know she shouldn't. I don't deserve her.

"It's okay," she repeats, and suddenly her hand stills on my back. "I'm sorry. I'm making you uncomfortable."

She's felt the tension in my muscles, but I shake my head. It's not _Olivia's _fault, after all. "It's okay." And then I realize I'm echoing her own words.

"Is it?"

I realize we're talking about two different things. "It was just a dream." I try to make my voice upbeat. "I'm sure you have them, too. It's the job."

Olivia hesitates for just a moment before nodding. "I do, sometimes. But none as bad as that one seemed to be."

I bite my lower lip. "They affect me." The truth; in essence, with a few important details left out.

"They affect me, too." She pauses again. "Sometimes it helps to talk, you know. When this job gets to you. Elliot and I do, and it's what keeps us going."

"It's just hard sometimes," I say slowly, weighing each word. I have to be vague. I can't tell her too much. "There's so much evil in the world. For every monster we send to jail, there are ten more out there that we can't do anything about. For every victim we help, there are ten more out there that we can't save. It just never seems like enough. We can't do enough."

Olivia nods, mulling over my words. "We can't do everything, Alex, but we can do _something_."

"But it's not _enough_."

She hesitates again. "It has to be."

**Review for chapter four!**


	4. Chapter 4

I go home that night, because I can't risk Olivia finding out anything more, but I get to work early the next day. I stop by the precinct first, to get some files, and I'm taken aback when I find Olivia already there. She seems as surprised to see me as I am to see her, but I snap out of it quickly and say in as strong a voice as I can muster, "Good morning, Detective."

"'Morning," she mutters. "What are you doing here so early?"

I shrug. "I could ask you the same question."

She sighs. "Sorry. It's been a tough . . ." She trails off and I'm left to wonder what the missing word is. Day? Week? Case? Life? All of those things, in more ways than one.

"I know," I say quietly, and pull out a chair beside her. It's the last thing I want to do, the last thing I _should _do, but I do it anyway, because I know she needs me to.

She seems surprised, but masks it quickly, and matches my quiet tone. "Thanks."

Suddenly, I have the urge to take her hand and squeeze it, because she looks like she needs someone right now. And because _I _need someone right now, and I want that someone to be her. "What is it, Olivia?"

She sighs again and buries her head in her hands. "It's the anniversary of my mom's death. It's been a year."

I don't know what to say. We all know about her mother, and what happened to her, and how she always resented Olivia for it. And yet their relationship has always been one fueled by strong emotions, a love/hate relationship in the truest sense of the term. Not unlike mine and hers, back when I was young and naïve and would do anything to feel _something_, whether it was elation or unbearable pain. "I'm sorry," I say, because it's the only thing I _can_ say.

She offers me a weak smile. "Yeah. It's hard, sometimes. Sometimes I miss her, but then I think I'm not missing the mother I had, but the mother I _wished _I did."

"I understand," I say, because I do. After I broke up with her, it seemed like the end of the world, and I cried myself to sleep more than once. I'd never done it when I was with her, because she didn't allow me to cry, and she only punished me more for it. But when I cried after, it wasn't because I missed her; it was because I missed what I might have had. I know that now.

"Yeah?"

I don't know what she's really asking, or if she's asking anything at all, but I nod anyway, because it seems like what she wants me to do.

Her expression softens, and she instinctively takes my hand. I feel a spark between us, a shiver coursing through my veins, and then I blush when I realize it was just an electric shock. God, why does she affect me like this? Our close proximity is unnerving and intoxicating all at once.

I wonder what came first, the addict or the drug. There's no addict if there's nothing to be addicted to, but a drug isn't a drug unless someone wants to make it one. I don't know, but I do know that I am undeniably addicted to Olivia Benson. There are no two ways about it.

"Sorry," she says, and I realize she's talking about the shock.

I smile a bit. "It's okay." But I don't let go of her hand. It's a comfort, for both of us.

Olivia clears her throat. "You know what? I think I'm going to visit my mom. Maybe bring her flowers." She hesitates. "Do you want to come with me?"

My heart stops, for just a moment, and I can't help but turn around, wondering who she's talking to, because it can't be _me_. Olivia can't be inviting _me _to do something with her. Okay, it's not a date, or anything even resembling one. But she wants me to do something with her, even if it's just because she's feeling vulnerable and needs someone right now. She wants _me_. No one has ever wanted me this way before, not as a friend, or anything more. Other people wanted other things, most of which culminated in sex; the rougher the better. I hated it. But Olivia isn't asking me home with her. She's not even asking me to dinner. She's asking me to come to her mother's grave, because she genuinely wants my company, or my comfort, or at least something that isn't sex.

I don't know what she sees in me, but I'm not about to question it now. "Okay," I agree, and her smile lights up my world.

"Okay," she echoes, quietly, and pulls on her coat. "Ready?"

I grab my own jacket and follow her out of the precinct, trying to calm my racing pulse. I get so keyed up just being _close _to her. I've never known anyone like Olivia before, and I have no clue why she wants anything to do with me, but I'm going to accept this gift I'm being offered, just in case it doesn't last.

Of course it won't last. Why would Olivia want _me_, as a friend or even a girlfriend?

I climb into the passenger seat of her car, silently, trying to be what she wants me to be. I hold my breath, lest I say the wrong thing and she realizes that she didn't really want me here after all, and leaves me on the side of the road, just like fifteen years ago. But this time, I'll have money for a cab, and I won't have to find my own way home. This time, I'll be stronger.

We drive in silence for a few minutes and stop at a flower shop, where Olivia picks out a bouquet of violets, which she says were her mother's favorite. _Mine, too_, I don't say, because no one has ever brought me flowers before, and no one ever will.

Olivia gives me a smile as she brings the flowers out to the car. "Thanks," she says softly.

I don't know what to say to that, so I chew on my lower lip and don't say anything at all for the entire ride to the cemetery.

Finally, we arrive, and Olivia comes around to my side of the car and holds the door for me, which makes me smile. She grabs the flowers and I follow her down the path to her mother's grave.

The stone says _In loving memory of Serena Benson, 1945-2000_. She sits by the tombstone and gently, almost reverently, puts down the flowers. "I love you, Mom," she says, so quietly I can barely hear.

It feels almost as if I'm intruding on a private moment and I stand awkwardly a few feet away, because it doesn't seem appropriate for me to come any closer.

Suddenly, Olivia holds out her arms for me, and I need the comfort as much as she does. Without over thinking it, without thinking at all, I walk into them, because I know if I think, I'll lose my courage. But then I'm wrapped up in her warm embrace, and it feels so good. I rest my head on her shoulder and inhale the scent of her vanilla shampoo.

We both realize at the same time that this is too intimate a gesture for friends, and break apart, almost sheepishly. "Sorry," I say quickly, even though she's the one who initiated the contact.

She sighs. "Look, Alex – you told me you don't want a romantic relationship. That's fine. But I do want to be your friend. If you don't want that, then just tell me right now, okay? I don't want to make you uncomfortable, or force you to do something you don't want to do."

"I do. I do want to be . . ." I falter. Really, I do want to be her girlfriend, but I'm not stupid – I know she could never love me, even though she thinks she might be able to. And I can't admit to myself that maybe what I did fifteen years ago wasn't a mistake, but a necessary hurdle on the path of self-discovery.

"What is it, Alex?"

I shake my head. We're here at her mother's grave, on the anniversary of her death, and Olivia is asking _me_ what's wrong. I can't tell her.

"Alex." She takes my hands in hers and waits until I finally meet her eyes. "Talk to me."

My walls are starting to crumble, but I can't let them break. I pull back. "I'm sorry about your mother," I say again, and turn away from her. I walk to the road where her car is parked and raise my hand to hail a cab.

I don't look back.

**Review for chapter five!**


	5. Chapter 5

I hole myself up in my office and try to lose myself in my paperwork, but for once, it doesn't work. Olivia's crestfallen face floats through my mind, over and over, those huge, sad eyes begging me to come back. I know that if I act like I don't care, she won't push me, and maybe I'm exploiting that. Or maybe I just have to be brave and tell her how I feel, how I _really _feel about her.

It'll be the hardest thing I've ever done, maybe even harder than breaking up with her so many years ago. To accept who I am, who I have been, who I might be. To accept what I've done and what I might do. To accept that every path comes with pain, but I must choose one and follow it notwithstanding.

* * *

My heart is pounding when I walk into the precinct a few hours later. It's just Olivia and I there; the guys are out at a crime scene and the captain ordered Olivia to stay behind. It's been a hard day for her, and I feel even worse when I realize that I probably just added to her burden. She asked me to come with her this morning because she wanted comfort, company, not because she wanted more conflict. But that's all I bring, and I feel terrible about it.

I take a deep breath and walk up to her desk. "Olivia," I say, and her head snaps up, but she relaxes a bit when she realizes it's just me.

"Yeah?"

I clear my throat. "Do you want to come out for dinner with me?" I've never done this before, and I know I sound awkward, but I'm trying to put some confidence behind my words.

Olivia sighs. "I don't understand, Alex. This morning you're running away from me and now you're asking me out for dinner? I thought you didn't want this kind of relationship."

"I changed my mind." I realize the moment the words are out of my mouth how childish they sound, as if I'm reverting back to my teenage self.

"I want you to be straight with me," she says. "What is it that you want?"

I take a deep breath. "Let's start with dinner."

She studies me carefully, looking for sincerity, or lack thereof. Finally, she nods. "Fine. I'll pick you up in an hour," she says briskly.

I smile in spite of myself. "Am I putting you out?"

She smiles back. "I thought you would appreciate the chivalry."

"I do."

She cocks her head. "You never had someone to do that for you before?"

I bite my lip and shake my head, not ready to discuss this right now. Not here in the squad room, at least.

"Well, you do now," says Olivia, regarding me fondly, and my heart soars.

* * *

I go back to my apartment, wondering how my invitation to _her _has really turned out the other way around. Apparently, she's driving, and choosing our destination, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to wear. It's been years since I've done this – longer, even.

I finally settle on dress pants and a nice blouse. Olivia probably won't care anyway; she doesn't base her opinions on appearances.

Finally, the doorbell rings, and I feel like a lovesick teenager again, anxiously awaiting my first date. I remember.

It was a good one, actually, considering what came after. I got myself all dressed up and she arrived a fashionable five minutes late. She picked me up in her Lexus, and took me out to a fancy restaurant that I'd never been to before. She told me how beautiful I looked and held my hand while we waited for dinner.

Of course, I was naïve. I recognize the signs now – how she ordered my dinner for me, even though I told her I didn't like anything spicy, how she insisted on accompanying me to the washroom. I'd thought it was sweet at the time, but really it was just controlling.

I push the thought from my mind and answer the door, trying to calm my racing heart. Sure enough, Olivia's standing in the hallway, looking as beautiful as ever, perfectly at ease. I try to do the same, at least on the outside.

She gives me a smile. "Ready?"

I nod, and lock up the apartment before following her to her car and climbing into the passenger seat. "Are you going to tell me where we're going?" I ask.

She quirks an eyebrow in amusement. "No."

"Well, I was the one who asked you out, so really I should know."

She waves a dismissive hand. "I asked _you _out."

"We asked _each other _out."

"I asked you out first."

I smile in spite of myself. "Are we eight years old?"

She sticks her tongue out at me, and I laugh. This is so easy, easier than I expected, to fall back into the rhythm of our light banter.

"Liv," I whine, giving her my best pout, and she chuckles.

"Is Alex Cabot actually _whining_?"

I grin. "Don't tell anyone."

Olivia takes my hand and gives it a light squeeze. "I wouldn't dream of it."

And I wonder if we're even talking about the same thing anymore.

She notices the change in the atmosphere and gives me a sidelong glance. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

With _this_? Of course I am. How can she even think otherwise? I nod.

"Okay," she says. Still, she doesn't let go of my hand, and I don't pull away.

We reach the restaurant a few minutes later – an upscale Italian place that I'm sure is far out of Olivia's comfort zone; she's clearly tried to choose a place she thinks I'll like. I don't comment on that, though; all I say as we sit down at a table near the window is, "This is nice."

She smiles. "I'm happy if you are."

That ignites something inside me, a feeling I thought I'd never have again, and it takes me a moment to realize: _Oh, so _this _is what happy feels like_. I'd forgotten.

She holds out my chair for me, which makes me smile; no one's ever done that for me before. This is fine. She isn't making me kneel for her, or doing anything to make me uncomfortable. We're just sitting and talking, like two normal, equal people who have nothing to be ashamed of.

Unfortunately, that statement is only half right.

Our waitress comes over and introduces herself. "Can I get you anything to drink?" she asks.

Olivia looks at me, but I don't say anything. I'm not sure what she wants me to say.

"Can we get the wine list?" she asks, and the waitress nods.

"Of course."

I cross my arms over my chest and lower my eyes. This is going to be a disaster. Why did I think it was a good idea? I haven't been on a date in years, and I don't know what I'm not supposed to say, what I'm not supposed to do, what will reflect badly on Olivia.

I flinch when I feel a gentle hand on mine. "You okay?"

I nod, just as the waitress comes back with the wine list. Olivia asks me what I want, but I just shrug. "What do you want?"

She smiles. "You know, I have a feeling that you know wine better than I do."

"What makes you think that?"

She smirks. "I plead the fifth, but I'm pretty sure I'm right."

I shrug. "Whatever you want is fine." I don't know what she wants me to say.

She sighs. "Okay." She orders us a bottle of Merlot.

We sit in silence for a few moments, but it isn't awkward. With Olivia, silence is just as comfortable as when we're talking. Being close to her somehow makes me feel safe. I know that she'll never hurt me.

But what if she knew who I really am, what I really did, what I let someone else do to me? She'd see me differently then, as someone weak, undeserving of her. And she'd be right.

Olivia puts her hand on mine again. "Are you sure you're okay, Alex? We don't have to do this."

I shake my head. "I want to. I just . . ." I trail off. I just _what_? I'm just scared? I'm just nervous? I'm just uncertain?

No. Alex Cabot is none of those things. I can't say that.

"Talk to me, Alex. Tell me what's wrong. Tell me how I can help you."

No. This isn't going to turn into an extract-information-from-poor-little-Alex date. This isn't going to turn into a pity date. I can't tell her.

I bite my lower lip and blink back the tears in my eyes. She seems genuinely concerned, like she really cares, like she really wants to make things better for me. But she can't. No one can.

She sees the tears and in an instant, she's beside me, wrapping an arm around me. "Sweetie, please, just tell me what I can do. I don't like seeing you upset."

And that's all it takes for my tears to spill over. That soothing touch, that gentle voice, and I'm gone. I cry like I haven't cried in years, not even noticing, much less than caring, that I'm in the middle of a busy restaurant. If it had registered, I probably would have been mortified, because I'm definitely not one for public – or really any – displays of emotion, but right now I'm too far gone to care.

And Olivia's by my side, rubbing my back in comforting circles and not even chastising me for my hysterics, just reassuring me with her presence. "It's okay," she murmurs, even though I know she doesn't understand. "You're okay, Alex. I'm here." She takes one of my hands and gives it a squeeze. "Let's go back to my place, all right?"

I'm too overwhelmed to object, and I let her lead me out of there. She keeps a protective arm around me and her other hand on the small of my back, guiding me, reassuring me that I'm safe.

**Review for chapter six!**


	6. Chapter 6

She holds tight to my hand on the ride home, silent save for my quiet sobs, which gradually turn into whimpers. Once I've regained control of myself, I'm absolutely mortified – for breaking down in public, for letting Olivia see me in such a vulnerable position, for allowing myself to _be _in such a vulnerable position. I'm weak, and now she knows.

I fall asleep in the car – another thing I've never done before – and I start awake to find Olivia gently shaking my shoulders. "Hey, we're here."

I rub my eyes. "Hmm?"

She smiles. "You fell asleep, Alex. We're at my apartment."

I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could just sink into the ground. "I'm sorry. I'll call a cab."

"It's okay. Why don't you come inside?"

I take a deep breath. "Liv, I'm really sorry. I just – lost it. I didn't mean it to end this way."

Olivia takes my hand. "What's ending?"

And my heart soars.

She leads me out of the car and up to her apartment, and settles me down on her couch. "See, this is just as nice as a restaurant." She quirks an eyebrow. "Much more . . . intimate."

I can't help it; I laugh. Olivia always knows just what to say to put me at ease. "I'm really sorry, though. I ruined your night."

"_Our _night. And you didn't ruin anything." She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You seemed pretty upset back there, Alex. Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head, burrowing deeper into myself. "I can't, Liv. I'm sorry."

"All right. I'm not going to push you, but if you ever want to talk, I'm here for you. You can tell me anything, and I'll never judge you. Okay?"

"Okay," I say softly, curling toward the arm of the couch.

Olivia rests a hand on my arm. I flinch involuntarily, and she cocks her head in concern. "Alex, did someone hurt you?"

What a loaded question. Moreover, it's a question I can't answer. I just shake my head.

She sighs. "Okay. Do you want me to put on a movie or something? We can order in Chinese."

"Sure," I say, but I can't stop my body from trembling under Olivia's gaze. It's almost as if those deep chocolate eyes are looking through me, penetrating my soul, seeing the words I can't bring myself to say.

She slides closer to me and gently rubs my arms to warm them up. "It's okay, Alex. I won't hurt you."

I can't bring myself to meet her eyes. "I know."

When I finally stop shivering, she gets up. "I'll order in dinner. What do you want?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

"I can get you a menu."

"No, that's okay."

"Well, I don't want to get something you're not going to like. What do you usually get when you order Chinese?"

I bite my lip, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "Lemon chicken."

"Okay. If I get spring rolls, will you have one?"

I nod.

Olivia orders dinner and then comes back into the living room. She sits down beside me. "Dinner will be here in an hour or so. Do you want to watch something on pay-per-view?"

"Sure," I agree.

She flips on the television and begins to browse through the movies. "Do you want to watch a comedy?"

"Okay."

She stops halfway through the page. "Don't laugh at me, but _The Devil Wears Prada _is one of my favorites. Want to watch it?"

I can't stop myself from laughing, and she glares at me mock-accusingly.

"Hey, you said you wouldn't laugh. I may be a tough cop on the outside, but I love Meryl Streep."

"Oh, _that's _why you love this movie."

She smiles sheepishly. "Don't tell anyone."

"I won't. And we can watch it if you want to."

She turns on the movie and moves closer to me. "Can I hold you?" she asks quietly.

I hesitate for just a moment before nodding. I do want her to hold me. I love the feeling of safety that washes over me in her embrace, because I know she'll never hurt me. As I feel her arms wrap around me, holding me close, I relax, letting Olivia soothe my anxiety. This is turning out to be a better evening than I thought it would be.

* * *

The food arrives an hour later, and we eat in front of the television. When the movie's over, it's pouring rain outside, and Olivia knows I live halfway across town. "Why don't you stay here tonight?" she offers. "You can have the bed and I'll sleep on the couch."

I'm about to argue, but then I see the look on her face, and I can't bring myself to. "Thanks."

She leads me to her bedroom and hands me a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. "Sorry, this is all I have, but I'm sure you're going to want to change out of those clothes." She smiles at me. "You can change here if you like. I'll leave the room."

I glance down at the clothes. The sweatpants are fine, but I can't wear the tank top. "Can I – can I have a sweatshirt? Please?" My voice sounds small and faraway, but after all the emotion of tonight, I can't help it. As the night nears, I can't help the fear beginning to overwhelm me once again.

"Sure." She hands me one of her NYPD sweatshirts, then apologizes again. "As you can see, I don't do laundry much." She grins.

"Thanks," I say quietly, and quickly change into the clothes she's given me as soon as she leaves.

She comes back into the room a moment later. "Goodnight, Alex. If you need anything in the night, I'm just out here. You can come get me, no matter what time it is, okay?"

I shake my head. I don't want to be left alone right now. "Will you stay with me? Please?" God, I'm _begging_. But I want – I need – her to be close to me right now. She's the only one who cares. She's the only one who ever has.

She sits down on the bed. "Of course."

Then I lower my eyes in shame once I realize what I've done. How can I have been reduced to this, this _victim_? I have never needed anyone before. I've always been able to take care of myself, and now I'm too afraid to even be here alone. How has this happened?

But Olivia understands. She gently takes my arm and lowers me onto the bed beside her. "It's okay, Alex. I understand. I'll stay with you as long as you need me to."

I haven't even told her anything and she's being so good to me. I don't understand. I don't deserve her, and it's all I can do not to burst into a fresh round of sobbing.

"Hey, it's okay," she soothes, rubbing my back. I flinch, just a little, but even though I'm sure she notices, this time she doesn't comment. "Do you want me to lie down with you?"

She asked me that same thing, so long ago, but it wasn't a question. It was a demand _phrased _as a question, and there's a difference. I shook my head, and she hit me – that was the first time. I stumbled backward, clutching my burning cheek. "I'm sorry?" I said, looking up at her, eyes wide with confusion. God, I was just a _child_. Innocent. She destroyed that.

She pulled me down onto the bed beside her and started to take off my clothes. "Show me."

"What?"

She hit me again. "I said, 'Show me'."

I began to cry then. I was only fourteen, and I was a virgin. No one had ever touched me before, and I was absolutely terrified.

"Shh," she said, pushing me back onto the bed as I started to struggle. "It's okay. I'll make it good for you, Lex. You're mine, only mine."

It hurt. God, it hurt. It hurt so much, and I cried and cried, but still she didn't listen. And when she was done, she lay back down on the bed and turned away from me. She didn't say another word that whole sleepless night, throughout which I must have shed a thousand tears.

So now, I know what will happen if I say no, and I don't, although I'm afraid. I lower my eyes, and say, "Yes, ma'am," as I know she expects me to.

With trembling hands, I start to undress. This is what she wants from me, even if I don't. I can't bear to meet her eyes as I pull of the sweatshirt she's given me, but her gentle hand on mine stops me. "It's okay," she says, brushing my hair back from my face and giving me a sweet smile. God, her smiles kill me, every time. "You don't have to call me 'ma'am.' And you can keep your clothes on. Here." And she guides my head so it's resting on her shoulder, then wraps her arms around me.

I don't understand, though. Before, with her, when we were in bed, she made me take my clothes off. She touched me, even when I didn't want her to. She hurt me so much. But Olivia isn't doing any of those things. She's just holding me, and for the first time in my life, I feel safe. I never thought I could feel this way. I never thought such happiness could be mine.

**Review for chapter seven!**


	7. Chapter 7

_It's late, and we've just got back from a party one of her friends was hosting. She's drunk, but amazingly, she doesn't look it. She's led me around on her leash all night, with me walking ten feet behind her, my eyes lowered like the good little girl she expects me to be. She's drunk enough to yank me behind her all the way home, even as I stumble on the wet pavement, because it's dark and I can't see where I'm going. Even more amazingly, no one stops us, or even looks at us as if it's odd to see one girl leading another around on her leash._

_When we get back to her house, she pulls me up to her room and sits me down on the bed. "Get undressed," she orders._

_I shake my head, wrapping my arms around myself in shame. I can't let her see what my father did to me last night, when he asked me why I was out so late and I stupidly replied that I was with my girlfriend. He travels a lot, so he hadn't known about her, but I should have known he would have a problem with it. "Good Christian girls are _not _lesbians," he said, and made me lie over my bed while he spanked me with his belt, until my skin was torn and bleeding. Today, the welts are so large and painful that it hurts to sit down, and I don't want her to see them._

_She pulls off my clothes anyway, and I see something flash in her eyes when she sees the welts, but she masks it quickly. "What's this?" she asks coldly._

_I lower my eyes. "I'm sorry, ma'am."_

_She smacks me, hard, across the face. "What _is _this?"_

"_My – my father," I stammer. "He punished me."_

"_For what?"_

_I don't want to tell her, I realty don't, but it's not as if I have a choice. "I told him about you."_

_Her face contorts, and she yanks on a clump of my hair. "Get up. You're going to be punished."_

_I let out a sob. "Please, ma'am, no! I know I shouldn't have told him! I'm sorry. It hurts! It hurts. Please don't. Please don't! I'm sorry!"_

_But my begging does me no good, and she hits me anyway, over and over and over until I'm screaming so loudly that it's a wonder the neighbors don't call the police. And when she's done, she locks me in the closet and leaves me there, bruised and broken and more confused than ever._

* * *

I wake up crying, and panic when I feel body sleeping beside me. I'm back with her, her arms holding me so tight that I feel like I'm suffocating. "Please don't," I whisper, raising my hands over my head to protect it from the anticipatory blows. "I'm sorry!"

"Shh, Alex, it's okay. It's just me. I'm here. You're safe." Olivia gently takes my arms and brings them back down to my sides. "Nobody's going to hurt you."

I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize it's just Olivia, but then I tense up again. Now Olivia _knows_. I was crying in my sleep, probably screaming too, and she knows everything.

Olivia gently rubs my back. "That was a pretty scary nightmare, huh?"

I just nod, grateful for the comfort that she's offering, allowing her to soothe my residual terror.

"Can you tell me about it?"

I _can_, but I won't. She should know that by now. But here I am, in her bed, wrapped up in her arms, and I know I won't be able to keep my secret for much longer. Being here with her just feels too good. But I know as soon as I tell her what happened to me, what I _let _happen to me, she'll be gone, and it'll be my own fault.

She holds me even more tightly. "Okay, sweetie. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. But I'm here for you if you ever do."

I'm trembling in her embrace, and she keeps rubbing my back and whispering assurances in my ear, promising me that I'm safe, that she'll protect me from whatever it is, that she's here and she's not going anywhere. My body slowly calms in her arms as the remnants of my nightmare slip away. I wish Olivia could be here for every nightmare, to soothe away my fears. But I know that Olivia will never want me here again. It's over between us. I've ruined it, with my mini-meltdown in the restaurant, my clinginess, my tears, and now my nightmare. Olivia deserves so much better than me, so much more than I can give her.

It seems to occur to us both at the same time what we must look like: in bed together, with her arms wrapped tightly around me. And here we were thinking last night was a first date! A first date that culminated with us in bed – fully clothed, I might add.

Odd as it would seem to an observer, Olivia doesn't seem to mind. "It's okay," she repeats, threading her fingers through my hair.

It's _not _okay, though. I disentangle myself from Olivia's embrace and curl up on the floor beside the bed. I don't deserve all the affection she's showing me. I don't deserve to be in her bed, in her arms, even in her _apartment_. This is where I belong, on the cold hardwood ground where she always put me, in the dark closet where she made me sleep. Even at fourteen, I was afraid of the dark, and that's why she punished me that way, over and over. She always knew just what would hurt me most, and that was what she did to me.

I cringe when I feel a warm pair of arms encircling me once more, but my body relaxes when I realize it's just Olivia. She's on the ground beside me, holding me once again. I don't understand.

She strokes my hair for a few moments, then leans close to whisper in my ear, "Don't run."

My body tenses, and suddenly that's the one thing I want to do, but as soon as she says this, I know I won't. She really wants me here with her. I don't know why, but suddenly it doesn't matter. I'm here, in her arms, and I'm safe.

We lie there in silence for a few more moments, then she says, "Let's sit back on the bed, okay? It's comfier."

I try to get to my feet, but I can't move. It feels too good, to be here, with Olivia, and I'm scared that if I move a muscle, I'll wake up to find that it's all been just a wonderful dream.

She gives me a smile and wraps my arms around her neck. "Don't let go," she says, and lifts me onto the bed, then sits down beside me.

I'm too overwhelmed to even object, although she's treating me like a child, and I'm not particularly keen on that. And yet, maybe it's what I need right now.

She takes my hands in hers and ducks her head so she's looking right into my eyes, and then she says, simply, clearly, genuinely, "I love you."

My heart stops. She's just told me she _loves _me. Olivia loves _me_. _Olivia _loves me.

I shake my head, and my whole body convulses. She doesn't love me. She can't. No one has ever loved me before. No one ever can. She told me she loved me, too, so long ago, but she hurt me. She lied. Olivia can easily do the same. I'm just as easy to manipulate now as I was then, just as easy to hurt.

I try to pull my hands away, try to get up and run, even though I've just promised I wouldn't. I can't handle this, not now, not when my pain is still so acute. If I give Olivia the power to hurt me, she will, and I can't take any more pain.

She doesn't let me go, though. She doesn't loosen her grasp on my hands and holds my gaze steady. "No matter how far you run, nothing can ever change that," she says, quietly but firmly. "I will always love you."

For just a moment, I let myself believe her. And I don't run.

**Review for chapter eight!**


	8. Chapter 8

Olivia's expression softens when she realizes that I'm not running, and she loosens her grip on my hands, but doesn't let go. "Thank you," she says softly, tucking a wisp of hair behind my ear. "This means a lot to me."

"What?"

"That you're still here."

I try a smile, but it comes out more as grimace. "Why wouldn't I be?"

But my trembling hands belie my nonchalance and Olivia pulls me onto her lap, cradling me in her arms and soothing my body as well as my psyche. "You don't need to be afraid, sweetie. I know you're scared now, but I promise, I will never hurt you. I love you, Alex." She rubs my shoulders, massaging away their strain, and her next question comes unexpectedly. "Do you trust me?"

I have to think about that one. I've never trusted anyone in my life that hasn't hurt me, but maybe now this can be different. Maybe Olivia will be different. Finally I nod. "Unconditionally." And as soon as I say it, I know it's the truth.

Her lips crinkle into a smile, and I melt. "Thank you for that, Alex."

I shake my head, fingering the _Fearlessness _pendant she wears around her neck. It suits her. "No, thank _you_."

"For what?"

"For showing me that I _can _trust you. For being trustworthy." I take a deep breath. "When I'm with you, I know I'm safe." I squeeze my eyes shut, realizing I've said too much, but she smiles again.

"You are safe with me, Alex. Always."

I drop my gaze and don't say anything.

Olivia glances at the clock on her night table and then back at me. She gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "If you want to shower, I can whip us up some pancakes, or French toast if you'd prefer."

I check the time and realize it's nearly 8:00 – we'll be late for work if we don't get a move on, and that will definitely raise a red flag. I don't think either of us has ever been late for work before – I know I haven't been, but that's simply because I sleep there more often than not. I want to tell Olivia not to put herself out, that I can just have a banana or a yogurt or something, but she looks so eager to please me and she's trying so hard that I can't bear to say no. I just nod and make my way to the bathroom, strip off my clothes and get into the shower, trying not to look at the scars that still litter my body.

I can identify each one, when I got it, what made it, who caused it. Almost all of them are from her, but there are others – from my dad, mostly. A few are benign; from falling down the stairs when I was eighteen months old, because I refused to go backward down the stairs even though my mother told me to, and I slipped and banged my head. I needed five stitches for that one. Another, from when I got into a fight with little Andrew in kindergarten. He tried to kiss me and I punched him in the face, and he was so surprised that he hit me back, and I hadn't realized that he was stronger than me. There's one from when I fell off my bicycle when I was eight – I was going down a huge hill and realized I was heading for a tree, so I hit the brakes hard, but I guess third grade science hadn't really registered, because it hadn't occurred to me that the impact would send me flying. Which it did. But the lessons that stick with me most are the painful ones.

Such as: Don't tell your father about your girlfriend unless you don't want to be able to sit down for a week. Make sure there's always enough Diet Coke in the fridge or else you'll be punished, with the strap-on, until you're ready to pass out from the pain. Never take off your collar when she wants you to keep it on, or else you'll be sleeping in the closet all night. Smoke as many cigarettes as she tells you to, even though you hate the smell, because if you don't want to be the smoker, you'll become the ashtray. Don't say a word about what she does to you unless you want another smack, another scar.

Such as: Don't tell anyone you love about your past, or else they'll leave you. That would be the worst punishment of all.

**Review if you want to know what happens next!**


	9. Chapter 9

I shower quickly, smiling as I lather Olivia's vanilla shampoo into my hair. I'll smell like her all day, and the thought makes me grin.

I get out of the shower and look around for a towel, but I can't find one. I open the door just a crack. "Liv!" I call, intending to ask her to grab me one.

Before I even know what's happening, she's standing in the doorway, staring at the scars marring my skin. It all happens so quickly, the door opening, her coming in, her hand covering her mouth: _Oh my god I'm so sorry I didn't realize_. Her eyes appraising my body, me wrapping my arms around myself, wanting to run but knowing I can't because I don't have any clothes, and getting past her is a feat I don't care to undertake. _Alex what happened to you? _She's saying something, and I see her lips moving, but I don't hear a word. _She's found my secret she's found my secret oh god she's found my secret can't let her can't let her can't let her_. The room starts to spin, and I feel myself falling, but Olivia's there to catch me, and she braces my fall.

She sets me down so I'm sitting up against the bathtub. "I'm going to get you a towel," she says softly, and doesn't say a word about what she's just seen, but I know this reprieve is temporary. She's too much of a detective not to want to talk about this, but I can't I can't I can't!

_Don't run,_ she said, so I don't. I just sit against that bathtub, clutching my knees to my chest and trembling as I wait for her to return.

After what seems like an instant and an eternity all at once, Olivia comes back into the washroom with a fluffy towel, warm from the dryer. "I warmed it up for you," she says gently, handing it to me, and I want to say thank you, but the words stick in my throat and I can't say anything at all. I just wrap the towel around myself and stare at a miniscule spot on the ground.

She doesn't touch me, knowing instinctively that it will upset me further. She always just _knows_, intuitively, when physical contact will help and when it will hurt. "Alex," she finally says, cocking her head so she's looking right into my eyes. "Who hurt you?"

I shake my head. "It was a long time ago."

"I know." She holds my gaze steady. "But it still affects you. And I think that if you tell me, it will help. I know it's hard to talk about, but you said earlier that you trust me, and I want you to."

Without even thinking, I take her hand, and this causes my towel to slide down a bit, exposing more scars. She regards me sadly and fixes the towel so it's covering the marks, wrapping it tightly around me.

"Tell me," she repeats, not ordering, but almost _pleading_, and it breaks me.

"She was my girlfriend," I say slowly. "I was only fourteen. She was two years older. I was . . . questioning back then. My sexuality. Myself. She hurt me. I thought that was what . . . all this . . . was like." I drop my eyes. "I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Sweetie, those are cigarette burns on your breasts. She did that to you?"

"She made me ugly."

"Oh, Alex. You're not ugly. You're _beautiful_. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you."

"I don't want your pity," I say shortly.

Olivia's eyes shine with sadness and she cups my cheek. "Oh, sweetheart, it's not pity. It's love. It hurts me to think of someone hurting you."

I can hardly dare to breathe. She's just said she _loves _me. Again. I still can't get used to hearing those words. She loves _me_.

Something flashes in her eyes, and that tough cop bravado is back, for just a moment. "Where does she live, Alex?"

"I don't know," I say. This is a lie; I know exactly where she lives, but I wouldn't want to risk Olivia exacting revenge and getting into trouble on my behalf. After all she's done for me, I can't do that to her.

She sets her jaw. "I'd hurt her."

"Don't."

She sighs. "I won't, sweetie. I won't." She holds out her arms and I melt into them, as if she can alleviate my pain if she holds me close enough to her. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispers, burying her face in my shoulder.

"_You_ didn't hurt me."

"No. I know. But you've been suffering so much and I never helped you."

"It was fifteen years ago. I should be over it by now."

"Alex, you should know better than anyone that you never 'get over' something like this." She hugs me even more tightly. "You're so brave."

I relax against her, and she doesn't seem to notice that I'm getting her clothes wet, or that we're going to be late for work. I don't mention either of these things, choosing instead to bask in the comfort she's offering for as long as she wants to give it. No one has ever held me like this before.

No one has ever _loved _me like this before. I know Olivia does.

She gently rubs my back. "I'll never hurt you, Alex," she promises. "I understand why you're scared now, but you don't need to be. You're safe with me."

I chew on my lower lip and nod. "I know, Liv. You're not her. You're nothing like her."

"Tell me her name, sweetie."

I shake my head. "I can't, Liv. I'm sorry."

She sighs and tenderly strokes my hair. I flinch, just a bit, and she pulls me closer to her. "Okay. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

I close my eyes and lean into her. Her hands are so gentle, her voice so soft, her arms so warm. I feel so safe in her embrace, and I can't believe she's really here, with me, even now, after I've told her what happened. She's so good to me.

I clear my throat so she won't hear the crack in my voice and get up from her lap, pulling my towel more tightly around me. "We have work."

Her eyes follow me out of the bathroom, but this time, she lets me go.

**Review for chapter ten!**


	10. Chapter 10

I do my best to stay out of Olivia's way during work that day. I can't bear the pity I know I'll see in her eyes, but moreover, I'm afraid of the _pain_ I'll read in them. I think that maybe telling her what happened to me hurt her more than it hurt me. Yes, it was one of the hardest things I'd ever done, but Olivia . . . I never wanted to upset her, and how I have.

Last night was a fluke, an accident, a mistake. Olivia can't _really _want me. Olivia can't really love me. She was just doing what she did out of pity, nothing more. She was treating me like a victim, nothing more. Which is why I didn't want to tell her to begin with.

I bury myself in the mountain of paperwork Liz has left on my desk and try not to think of Olivia.

* * *

There's a knock on my door around 6:30, just as I'm finishing up and getting ready to go home. "Come in," I say, but when the door opens and I see it's Olivia, I feel immediately sorry for inviting her in.

She stands awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, but then she comes up to my desks and puts a gentle hand on my arm. "I'm going to get a bite to eat," she says softly. "Want to join me?"

I'm about to say no, but something stops me. Just staring into those deep brown orbs, I can't bring myself to turn down another moment – or ten, or twenty, or an hour if things go well – with her. What's another nail in my coffin, anyway? "Sure," I say instead, trying for a smile, but it comes out more as a grimace. "As long as it doesn't turn out to be a repeat of last night."

She smiles, and there's a touch of levity behind it, but also a hint of truth. "I wouldn't mind."

"Which part? Waking up in bed with me or watching me snivel all over your apartment?"

She laughs. "You weren't snivelling, and I think that was a rhetorical question."

It was, too. I was just trying to poke some fun at myself so she wouldn't.

I hold her gaze, making sure that she knows my next words are genuine. "Thanks, Liv."

"Whoa, I didn't say I was buying dinner. You're on your own there, Counsellor."

She's deliberately misunderstanding, but I have to smile anyway. "I thought such a chivalrous woman as you would be happy to treat for dinner, Detective."

"Hey, I'm just an overworked, underpaid civil servant."

"That makes two of us."

"Yeah, I'm sure the family fortune doesn't stretch to cover dinner dates."

"Oh, so that's what this is?"

She smiles fondly at me, and I hear the truth in her words. "Of course."

My heart skips a beat, but then the moment flits away, and I bite my lip. This is something I have to say, to make sure she's really okay with where we seem to be heading. "I meant thanks for last night . . . and earlier."

"Alex, we don't have to talk about this right now if you don't want to," Olivia says gently, putting her hand on my arm again, and this time I don't flinch. I melt into the touch and try not to shy away from the words that I know need to be said.

"No, I want to tell you." I take a deep breath, and lower my eyes, because I can't look into hers as I say this. I can't bear the pain I know I'll see in them. "You're the first person that I told that didn't get angry with me, or blame me. You just – you – you held me. You made me feel safe. And that – I can't even begin to tell you how much that means to me. You're an amazing woman, Liv."

She lifts my chin, and all I can see in her eyes now is compassion, and something else I can't put a finger on – can it be _love_? "So are you," she whispers, and I hear the crack in her voice. She reaches out, caresses my cheek, smiles. "Alex, nothing that happened to you was your fault. I'm sorry that other people hurt you, and blamed you, and told you that it was, but I want you to know that they were wrong. All of them. _You _are an amazing woman, so brave, so strong, and so, so beautiful. I love you."

I begin to cry, then. I can't help it. No one has ever spoken to me so tenderly, and said such sweet things. No one has ever treated me the way she does, or made me feel so much with one touch, with one smile, with one _word_.

She takes my hand, and I'm gone. I wish I could say I love her back, because I do, I know in my heart that I do, but it's hard for me to say. Love isn't something to be treated so lightly, and I'm afraid that if I say it, my fairytale will end. I just lean into her, and she hugs me. I cry in her arms, and she lets me, until I finally run out of tears.

Suddenly, I'm embarrassed at this display of weakness, even more so because Olivia hasn't said a word. I step back, dab at my eyes with a tissue, and manage a smile. "So are we going out for dinner or not? I'll even treat, although next time, it's on you, and I'll be sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu."

"I look forward to it," she says grandly, and I smile; not because she's going to pay next time; not even because she's dropped the previous subject so easily. It's because she's just told me, loud and clear, that she wants there to be a next time.

**Review for chapter eleven!**


	11. Chapter 11

We go to the buffet across the street from the precinct, because I know Olivia needs to go back to work after. They're working a missing child's case, and she shouldn't even technically be taking an hour to have dinner with me, but when I tell her this, she just waves a dismissive hand. "So I'll sleep an hour less. Whatever." _You're more important_, she doesn't say, but I read the words in her eyes, and they make me glow inside.

She pulls out a chair for me, just like she did the first time. When I look at her, a bit curiously, she says in that soft, sweet voice of hers, "Here you go, princess," and smiles.

I stare at her for a moment, unsure what to make of this. "You called me 'princess.'"

"You _are _a princess," she says, tousling my hair affectionately. "My princess. I will always treat you like one."

I smile back as I lower myself into my seat, because I know she will. "Then you're my white knight."

But my smile fades when I realize how true this statement is. Except the only person I need protection from now is myself, or to be more accurate, the monster that lives inside my head, that tells me every single moment what I'm doing wrong. Maybe Olivia can countervail that monster, since she seems intent on telling me every single moment what I'm doing right. She says how beautiful I am, how brave I am, how much she admires me, how much she _loves _me. I just wish I could believe her. Maybe if she keeps saying those things, I'll start to.

She reaches across the table and takes my hand. "It's okay, Alex," she says quietly, holding my gaze steady. We stay like that for a moment, and then she clears her throat. "Ready to go get some food?"

* * *

When we're done eating (and Olivia insists on paying half the bill, regardless of what she said before), she offers to give me a ride home. I want to take her up on it, but instead I shake my head. "The guys are going to be wondering where you are. Cragen's never going to let you come out with me again!"

She shrugs. "Who says I'd listen to him?"

I smile in spite of myself. "It's okay, Liv. It's half an hour out of your way. I'll call a cab."

"Are you sure?"

No, but when I'm with her, I never am. I nod anyway. "I'll see you tomorrow, Liv."

She gives me a smile. "You will."

* * *

When I get home, I walk around the apartment turning on all the lights, although I'm well aware that I'm wasting electricity. Suddenly, my home feels so lonely, so empty. I wish Olivia was here with me.

I curl up on the couch and wrap a blanket around my shoulders. I close my eyes and for just a moment, I pretend that it's her arms around me, holding me close, keeping me safe. "I love you," she would tell me. "No matter how far you run, I will always love you, princess."

I smile at the thought and pull the blanket more tightly around me, continuing to entertain the notion that it's not a blanket around me, but Olivia's arms, that I'm safe and warm in her embrace. "I love you, too," I would say back to her, because it's true, even if the words stick in my throat whenever I try to say them.

I can't help myself. As if on their own accord, my hands are reaching for my cell phone and dialling Olivia's cell phone. "Benson," says a crisp voice, and I have to smile.

I pause for a moment, second guessing my motivation for calling her to begin with. I just want to hear her voice, really. I don't have anything pressing to say. I don't have anything at _all_ to say.

"Benson," she says again, and I bite my lip.

"Liv, it's me."

"Oh, hi, Alex. What's up?"

I can't say that I just want to hear her voice – that would just be the cheesiest thing in the universe. "Sorry, you're probably busy. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No, it's okay." She hesitates. "I was just thinking about you, actually."

I smile. "What were you thinking?"

"That I miss you."

My heart melts. That's just about the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, and it sounds so genuine. God, I love Olivia. All it takes is a word from her to lift my spirits. "I miss you, too, Liv."

I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, "It's only been an hour."

"I know."

"What are you doing right now?"

A million different answers pop into my head, but instead I tell her the truth. "Thinking about you, too."

"What were _you _thinking?"

I tell her the truth again. There's something in her that brings the truth out in people – it's why she's so good at her job. "That I wish you were here with me."

I can tell she's smiling again. "I am there with you, Alex. You're never far from my mind."

A warm feeling bubbles up inside me, and I'm grinning too hard to say a word. I'm afraid that I'll tear up if I do.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Alex," Olivia says.

"Yeah." I swallow hard. "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," I say quickly, before I chicken out, and hold my breath.

There's a long pause, and I wonder if I've said the wrong thing, or if Olivia's still there. But then she speaks, and I can hear the crack in her voice. "Oh, Alex. I love you, too." She's said the words enough times already, but they still sound fresh and beautiful; music to my ears.

I hang up the phone with the biggest smile on my face. Tonight, I'll be able to sleep, knowing that there's someone out there who loves me still.

**Review for chapter twelve!**


	12. Chapter 12

**From now on, these updates are probably going to be intermittent. Life gets tough . . . busy . . . unfortunately. Anyway, enjoy them when they come.**

The next morning as I get out of the shower, I hear a knock at my door. I freeze and slip on my bathrobe, wondering who on Earth would be at my apartment this early in the morning.

I open the door to find Olivia standing in the doorway. When she sees me, her face breaks into a smile. "'Morning, Alex. I brought breakfast." She holds up a bag from Le Pain.

I cock my head, trying to figure out how she got here. "I didn't buzz you in."

"No, that would be the good Samaritan in 7B. The badge works wonders, you know?"

I can't help but laugh. "You're exploiting the privilege."

She shrugs. "For a worthy cause."

"How'd you get here, anyway?"

"Drove."

"Liv! It's half an hour out of your way – technically an hour, because you have to get from your place to mine and then from here to the DA's office and then to the precinct."

She chuckles. "Can we stop it with the interrogation, Alex? I'm supposed to be the detective, remember?"

"Right." I smile sheepishly. "Come on in."

She's never been to my apartment before, and she glances around as I lead her into the kitchen, appraising every inch. It makes me smile again.

"You can put the food on the table," I tell her. "I'm going to get dressed. I'll just be a few minutes."

"Uh huh. I didn't know exactly what to get, so I got . . . well . . . everything." She blushes.

I giggle – another thing I haven't done in years. Olivia just brings those sorts of things out in me.

I pull on a blouse and dress pants and go back out to the kitchen, where Olivia is setting the table with plates and cutlery. She looks up and smiles when I come into the room. "I got croissants, and danishes, and fresh fruit –"

"What's the occasion?"

She shrugs and raises her glass of orange juice, a twinkle in her eye. "To spontaneous declarations of love."

I grin and raise the other glass of orange juice sitting on the table. "Amen."

She slides a plate onto the mat in front of me. "Breakfast is served, Madame."

I take a croissant and put it in my mouth. "Thanks, Liv."

She waves a dismissive hand. "No thanks needed. And I know I brought way too much food, so don't feel like you have to eat all of it or anything."

We eat breakfast in silence, basking in the warmth of each other's presence. When I don't think I'll be able to take another bite, Olivia helps me clean up.

"Come on. I'll give you a ride to work."

I smile. "So the point of coming all the way out here was just to bring me breakfast and give me a ride to work?"

"Yeah. Isn't that a good enough reason?"

"Of course." I grab my coat and loop my arm through hers. "I'm ready if you are."

Arm in arm, we walk down to her car. I climb into the passenger seat, and we drive in comfortable silence.

We pass Central Park, and I'm suddenly flooded with memories I would rather forget. The first time I came here, with her. We had a perfect time, actually. We walked hand in hand through the park, and she bought me a hot dog from a vendor – she didn't believe me when I told her I'd never had one before. "You deprived child!" she exclaimed, and it actually tasted pretty good.

That day was the day of my first kiss, in front of the fountain at Central Park. It was one of the best moments of my life – but it was also the moment my fate was sealed, the moment I was truly caught in her web.

"Alex?"

I jump, and then realize it's just Olivia. "Yes?"

She regards me sadly. "Where did you go?"

I shrug, a bit uncomfortable. "Into my head."

She reaches out and takes my hand, gives it a squeeze. "Well, stay here with me, okay?"

I manage a smile. "Okay." But I don't let go of her hand.

She drops me off at my office and says she'll see me later. I thank her for the ride and start to go inside.

"Hey, Alex!" Her voice stops me, and I turn back.

"Yes?"

"Want to get lunch today?"

I think about it for a moment. "Are you sure you'll have the time?"

She shrugs. "I'll make the time."

I smile. "Sure."

"Great. I'll pick you up at 1:00."

"Okay. Thanks, Liv."

"No problem." She gives me a wave and leaves.

For a moment, I think that maybe this is going too fast. It's only been a couple of days, and all of a sudden I can't go five hours without seeing her. More peculiarly, she can't seem to go five hours without seeing _me_. Why is that?

I've never known anyone like her before. I've never even dreamed that someone like her could be mine, that she could want me, that she could _love _me. Suddenly, I know without a doubt that she does. But I still don't understand _why_. What could someone as amazing as Olivia ever see in someone like me?

She says I'm a princess. _Her _princess. If only I could be.

**Review for chapter thirteen! I'll try to get it up as soon as I can.**


	13. Chapter 13

**So I managed to write one relatively quickly. Hallelujah! And yes, it's very fluffy. What can I say? Fluff is easier to write than substance.**

I see myself in the victims. Not all the victims. The children. The ones who think they've found someone to love them, and then they wind up raped or beaten or dead. At least I escaped the latter, but sometimes I think that it might have been better that way. Not now – now I have Olivia, and she makes my life worth living. But sometimes it's a tempting thought, to be free of the pain that follows me around, from the monster that lives inside my head.

Olivia calls me around noon and says they caught a case – fifteen-year-old raped by her boyfriend, who happens to be four years older. She needs me to get a warrant to search his house for the knife he used to subdue her. I tell her I'll be there in twenty.

I weasel the warrant out of Petrovsky, even though she's not particularly inclined to grant any of my motions these days, and drop it off at the precinct myself. Olivia's in the interrogation room, sweating the boyfriend, and Elliot's watching through the one-way window. He turns when I come in. "Thanks, Alex," he says, taking the warrant from me.

I cross my arms and turn back to the window, watching Olivia. I never tire of this particular activity, whether I'm watching her interrogate a perp or whether I'm sitting across the table from her at a quant Italian restaurant. "Has he confessed yet?"

"Nope."

"How long has she been in there for?"

"Maybe an hour or so. He's just a kid. He'll break soon."

"Mm hm."

Elliot looks at me for a long moment. "Is there anything else, Counselor?"

"No. You're free to execute the warrant now."

"Then what are you doing?"

I don't take my eyes off Olivia. "Observing."

"May I ask why?"

The corners of my lips twitch. "I'd really rather you didn't."

Elliot smiles and knocks lightly on the mirror. Olivia looks up, says something to the suspect, and comes out into the hallway. "What is it?" she asks Elliot, folding her arms over her chest.

He quirks an eyebrow and gestures to me. "Looks like someone's here to see you."

Olivia's face relaxes into a smile. "Oh, hi, Alex. If I recall correctly, I owe you lunch."

I smile back. "If you're busy, we can reschedule."

She shrugs. "El, why don't you have a go at him? I'll be back in an hour." She takes my hand and leads me out of the precinct.

"Where are we going?"

"Just across the street to the deli. Unfortunately, I'm going to be cheap."

I laugh. "That's okay. You brought me breakfast, remember?"

"True, true. So next time, it's on you, darlin'."

I grin, not because she's told me that I'm paying next time, not even because she's told me that she wants there to _be _a next time, but that she's called me _darlin_'. Southern drawl and all.

"Liv?"

"Yeah?"

I take a deep breath and offer her my sweetest smile. "I love you."

Her face is transformed with those three simple words, softening and breaking into the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. Her smile just about lights up my world.

She wraps her arms around me, pulling me close and then cradling my head in her hands. "I love you, too," she says, and the next thing I know, she's kissing me, or maybe I'm kissing her, soft and sweet. I lean into her and close my eyes, taking in the intoxicating feel of _Olivia_. This is bliss.

After what might have been an instant or an eternity, we break apart, and just gaze into each other's eyes for a long moment.

"Wow," is all she says.

I smile. "My sentiments exactly."

She pulls me against her again and buries her face in my hair. "I love you," she repeats, her words muffled, and I feel a few tears land on the crown of my head.

"Liv?"

She lets go of me and wipes her eyes. "Yeah?"

I take her hand. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not."

"Okay. Why is there moisture in your eyes?"

She smiles weakly. "You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that, or for you to accept it when I say that to you."

And then I feel like crying, too. Olivia is just so sweet. "Then I'll say it a million times, because it's true."

She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and gives my hand a squeeze. "Ready to go get lunch?"

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You let me buy you dinner tomorrow."

She laughs. "A bit eager, aren't we?"

I shrug unrepentantly. "Is that a problem?"

"Hey, I'm not complaining. I'm not about to turn down dinner with you. Or lunch with you. Or really _anything _with you."

My heart melts. "Then we're even, because I'm not about to turn down anything with you either."

She cups my cheek and gives me a smile. "You are a princess," she says, each word a diamond, and kisses my other cheek. I'm so comfortable with her that I don't even flinch like I usually do when someone touches me unexpectedly. This is what Olivia does to me, with one gentle touch, with one gentle _word_. I love her so much.

"Let's get lunch," I say as soon as I've regained the ability to speak, but my voice cracks with emotion.

Olivia kisses my cheek again. "Yeah." She takes my hand again, and we walk together to the deli across the street. Here, with Olivia, I feel so safe, so loved. I wish we could stay like this forever.

**Review for chapter fourteen!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Ah! More fluff! But a quick update again. Forgive me?**

The next day, we go out for dinner again, and I let Olivia choose the place. Italian again, somewhere I've never been before.

This time, I'm ready, and I'm happy to share a half-bottle of Merlot with Olivia. "Just as I suspected," she proclaims. "You know wine."

I smile shyly and raise my glass. She raises hers, too, and they meet in a low pitched kiss. "To you," I say.

She grins and shakes her head. "To _you_."

"To both of us."

We bring our glasses together again and take a sip.

I smile again, and so does Olivia. "You have the most beautiful smile," she tells me.

I blush. No one has ever said that to me before.

She cups my cheek. "Really. It lights up your whole face and it's like your eyes are dancing. I'm not as good with words as you are, but that's really what it looks like." She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. "No one ever told you that before?"

_I never had anyone to say such things before you,_ I don't say. Instead, I just shake my head.

She smiles sadly, but not as if she pities me; as if she truly cares about me and wishes someone had told me before how beautiful I am - how beautiful she _thinks_ I am. "Well then, we'll have to remedy that."

Suddenly, I'm kissing her again. I can't help myself. She's a magnet, drawing me close.

Her lips are so soft, so full, so sweet, and all for me, to touch, to taste, to claim. I could kiss her all day long and still hunger for more.

Finally, we break apart, and those beautiful lips turn up into a smile, just for me. She traces the outline of my jaw, my cheekbone. "You are beautiful. Not just your smile, the way it can light up a room. Not just your eyes, the exact colour of the ocean, or the sky. Not just your lips or your hair or your hands. But all of you. You are beautiful."

I close my eyes and let her continue to run her fingers along my lips, my chin, my neck. Having her hands on me feels so natural, so perfect, as if she's a part of me.

She reaches the top of my back and I tense, instinctively. She immediately pulls back. "How could someone hurt my princess?" she whispers, her eyes full of sadness. "How _could _they?"

I drop my gaze, unsure what to say to that. I'm not used to telling people about that part of me – and I'm not used to them supporting me once I have. I know it disgusts her to think of someone marking my ivory skin, just as it disgusted me, once. And then I got used to rainbows of black and blue, yellow and purple and red marring my pale flesh.

She takes my hand and brings it to her lips, planting upon it a gentle kiss. "It's okay, Alex. I'm here. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

I try on a smile, and she smiles weakly back. I'm not used to being with someone like Olivia, who treats me so well and loves me so much. I know she does.

The waiter brings us our food, and I turn my attention to my chicken parmigiana instead of Olivia; an excuse not to meet her eyes. I can't bear the pain I know I'll see in them, on my behalf.

She holds tight to my hand as we eat in silence, and when the waiter comes to take our plates, Olivia asks for the dessert menu. She asks me what I want and I just shrug.

"We can get fondue, or we can get a strawberry cheesecake if you like that better," she says.

"Fondue is good."

"Okay." She calls the waiter over and orders.

I suddenly start to tremble. I don't know exactly why, because it's not particularly cold and I'm not scared of anything right now – or at least, I'm not any more afraid than I usually am.

Olivia comes over to me and wraps her jacket around my shoulders. "You okay?" she asks, gently rubbing my back.

I nod, but allow her to soothe my shivers. She kisses my forehead and goes back to sit across from me.

The waiter comes back with our fondue, and I don't look at Olivia as I delicately dip a strawberry in the chocolate sauce. "It's good," I say quietly.

Olivia smiles. "I'm happy if you are."

I melt again. She's just so sweet.

We finish eating, and I convince Olivia to let me pay the bill (which is no easy feat). As we walk toward the car, she says, "Hey, you want to come over to my place?"

"You mean, to spend the night?"

"Yeah."

I lower my eyes and chew on my bottom lip. "I have nightmares, sometimes."

She lifts my chin, determination in her eyes. "Then I'll help you through them, and hold you until you fall back asleep."

"Okay," I finally agree. Maybe tonight will be an improvement on the last night we spent together.

**Review for chapter fifteen!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hmm . . . the third fluffy chapter in a row? Well, mostly fluff. I'll try to move it along . . . **_**try **_**being the operative word.**

I wake up in Olivia's bed, and I panic. How did I get here? Did I pass out? Did she –?

"Alex?"

I jump and start to tremble. "Wh-what happened?"

She sits down on the bed beside me and takes my hand. "You fell asleep in the car. I tried to wake you, but then I figured what the heck, and I brought you inside." She sees the fear in my eyes, and gives my hand a comforting squeeze. "I carried you in here. That's all. I didn't touch you."

I start to cry, ashamed that I'd even thought she might try something. Olivia's just not like that. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay." She gives me a sweet smile and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You're beautiful when you sleep."

She hands out compliments like they're candy, and I'm not used to it. They still make me blush.

Olivia brushes away my tears. "Come on. I'll turn on some music. We can have a bottle of wine if you like – if you haven't had too much by now."

I smile through the tears still welling up in my eyes. "I only had half a glass."

She shrugs. "Different people have different tolerances for alcohol."

I roll my eyes. "I knew _that_."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to sound condescending."

I shake my head. "I have never had someone say that to _me _before."

"Yeah, go figure. Anyway, you want some wine? Or I could make you a daiquiri."

"That sounds good."

"Okay." She takes my hand and leads me out to the living room. "Sit down. Relax. I'll be back in a minute."

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and settle back into the cushions. Olivia is so good to me. I don't understand.

She comes back into the living room a few moments later with two strawberry daiquiris. She hands one to me. "Cheers."

"Thanks." I take a sip.

Olivia slides close to me so that our thighs are touching. "You okay?"

I nod and bring the glass to my lips again.

We sip our drinks in silence. When I finish, Olivia sets the glasses on the coffee table and takes my hand. "Dance with me?"

Hesitantly, I get to my feet. She presses a button on the CD player on the opposite side of the room and gives me a smile. "Here, sweetie." She guides my hands so they're resting on her waist. "Don't let go." As if I could let go of her. As if I'd want to.

I bite my lip as the music starts – something slow and romantic that I haven't heard before. I haven't done this in years, and I'm not sure if I remember how. I look down at my feet, concentrating on making each move precise.

Olivia chuckles lightly. "Don't worry. It's just a dance. Look into my eyes. Relax." As we start to spin around the room, never breaking eye contact, Olivia smiles. "Don't laugh. I know I'm not good at this."

"You are," I say, closing my eyes and just _feeling _the music, letting it – and Olivia – carry me around the room. It's like flying, and I'd be happy if we could stay like this forever, if she'd never let me go.

* * *

Two hours and many dances later, I'm ready to crash. "You can have the bed, and I'll sleep on the couch if you're more comfortable," she offers.

I consider, but shake my head. "No. That's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." I give her a smile. "I want to be with you."

She smiles back. "Okay." She finds me a sweatshirt and sweatpants to sleep in, and lets me change in the bathroom.

I come back to the bedroom and lay down beside Olivia. She's just wearing a tank top and boy shorts, but I'm perfectly comfortable here with her.

She rolls onto her side. "Can I hold you?"

I nod and slide closer to her, and she wraps her arms around me. I flinch, just a bit, and she sighs. "Sorry," I say quietly and rest my head in the crook of her neck.

She threads her fingers through my hair and presses a gentle kiss to the base of my neck. "Don't be, princess. It's just – it hurts me to think of somebody hurting the woman I love."

I curl further into her embrace. Olivia always knows just the right thing to say.

"Alex?"

"Yes?"

Olivia hesitates. "Tell me about your mom."

I'm immediately on my guard. "Why?"

She kisses my hair. "I don't know. Just wondering." She starts to rub comforting circles into my back. "Well . . . you know about my mom. Sometimes I wish –" Olivia sighs. "Never mind. It's a stupid question. I shouldn't have asked."

I try to relax in her arms, and remind myself that I don't have to answer if I don't want to. "We weren't close," I say, being purposefully elusive.

She doesn't say anything – waiting, I suppose, for me to elaborate. When I don't, she says, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Alex. I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable."

God, I love Olivia. I want to clone her.

"She hit me, sometimes. She thought – thinks, probably – that – that _this _is wrong." I sigh. "I haven't seen her in fifteen years."

Her eyes are full of sadness, and she hugs me even tighter. "How could she hurt you?" she whispers. "How could she hit my beautiful Alex?"

She's said this before today, and I'm not any more comfortable with it now than I was a few hours ago. But Olivia, my wonderful Olivia . . . she's so good to me. "We see it every day," I reply, matching her quiet tone.

"I know, but – it's different." She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "It's _you_."

**Review for chapter sixteen!**


	16. Chapter 16

_We're at a party, and I'm talking to one of my friends when she comes up behind me and yanks my arm, pulling me away from my friend. "We're leaving," she snaps._

"_But – but I want to stay," I whisper, because I'm young and naïve and haven't learned yet._

"_Oh, you want to stay?" she mocks me. "You want to be a slut?" And she yanks on a clump of my hair, dragging me after her._

_I whimper, trying to extricate myself from her grasp, squirming away from her hand. "Please let go, ma'am. You're hurting me!"_

_She tightens her grasp and walks faster, and I can hardly keep up. She's shorter than me, but she's stronger, and I have to take two strides for each of hers._

_My scalp feels like it's on fire, but I know better than to try to push away her fingers. "Please, ma'am," I beg, ashamed that I've been reduced to this, but there isn't anything left for me to do. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll be good. Just please, let go."_

_She does, and it sends me reeling. I fall backward and hit the ground, and because I'm young and naïve and haven't learned yet, I burst into tears. My shirt is torn, my elbow is bleeding, and my head feels like someone is hitting it with a hammer. I feel like I must have twisted my ankle, because it throbs when I try to get up, and eventually I abandon the effort and sit back down on the ground with tears in my eyes._

_I expect her to help me to my feet and wrap an arm around me, gently soothing the pain, but she doesn't. She narrows her eyes and tugs on a clump of my hair once more, yanking me to my feet. My ankle hurts so much that I can barely stay upright, and I fall again._

"_Get up," she snaps, not loosening her grasp on my hair. "Stop snivelling. God, you're such a baby."_

_I duck my head in shame, because I know she's right, but my ankle feels like someone is hacking it off with an axe._

_When I finally get home, I climb into bed and try to sleep. My ankle is purple and swollen, and in the morning when I hobble into the kitchen for breakfast, my mother examines my ankle. "It's broken," she says sharply, moving my ankle to test for mobility. "Alexandra, what did you do?"_

_I shrug helplessly. What is there for me to say?_

_She sighs. "I'll call the doctor."_

_I shake my head. I can't have her calling the doctor. He'll want to examine me, and I can't let him – or my mother, for that matter – see the bruises that trail up my legs and snake between my thighs._

"_Alexandra, this isn't up for discussion. You need to have your ankle looked at. I can call Dr. Abrams, or I can have Ellen take you to the emergency room."_

_I chew on my lower lip. "I'm going out."_

"_No, you're not."_

_I glance at the clock. I'm supposed to meet her at the local coffee shop in ten minutes, and it's an eight minute walk. My anxiety level skyrockets; she doesn't like me to be late._

"_You're not going anywhere except the ER," my mother says firmly._

_Tears rush to my eyes. I don't want her to hit me again, and I know she will if I don't show up. But I don't know how to explain this to my mother._

_She sighs. "Go back to your room, Alexandra. I'm going to call Dr. Abrams and he's going to come take a look at your ankle."_

"_I have somewhere I need to be."_

"_What could possibly be more important than your health, Alexandra? Really."_

"_I'm meeting a friend."_

"_Well, you can call her and tell her you'll be late."_

_If only it were that simple. "I can't."_

"_Well, you're going to have to. Now go upstairs."_

"_Bitch," I mutter deliberately, and she smacks me._

"_Don't you dare talk to me that way, Alexandra."_

_I cross my arms. "Or else?"_

_Her face contorts. She leaves the room to get something, presumably an implement with which to punish me, a hairbrush or even a belt, and I bolt._

_I hobble all the way to the coffee shop, where I'm punished again for being late, and then I have to beg her to let me spend the night with her, even though my body is screaming in pain, because I don't want to go home and be beaten for the third time that day by my mother._

* * *

"Alex?"

I start awake, and it takes me a moment before I realize where I am. _Oh_. I'm with Olivia, in her bed, and it was just a dream – brought on by all that thinking about my mother, I guess. I'm okay. Olivia's here. I'm safe.

I don't realize I'm trembling until Olivia starts to gently rub my arms to warm them up. "It's okay," she says, and kisses the crown of my head. "I'm here. I've got you."

I try to calm myself down, but I can't stop shivering, and there are tears in my eyes. I don't even know how they got there.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. I can't.

She kisses my hair. "Okay. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

I lean against her and try not to cry. "We were at a party. I was talking to another girl and she thought I was flirting with her. She called me a slut and I – I argued with her. She was pulling on my hair, and then when she let go, I fell, and I twisted my ankle. And then the next morning, my mom punished me, and then she did again when I went to meet her at the coffee shop – because I was late."

Olivia cradles my head in her hands. "You didn't deserve that, Alex. No one should ever hurt you like that. Ever." She kisses my forehead. "I will never do that to you."

"I know," I murmur, and wrap my arms around her. "I love you."

She smiles and kisses my hair again. "I love you, too, princess. More than anything."

I rest my head in her lap and close my eyes. "What time is it?"

She starts to thread her fingers through my hair. "4:27. Do you think you'll be able to get back to sleep?"

"I'll try," I say in a small voice.

Olivia keeps stroking my hair. "Your hair is so soft," she says, smiling at me again. "It's beautiful. Just like the rest of you."

I smile back and snuggle closer to her. "If you'll hold me, I know I'll be able to sleep."

"Of course." She takes me into her arms and holds me close, gently rubbing my back, the soothing rhythm lulling me back to sleep.

**Review for chapter seventeen!**


	17. Chapter 17

After that first glorious night, I start going home with Olivia more often. She's so good to me, and I crave her company like a drug. She never gets upset if I wake her up at three in the morning with nightmares, or if I refuse to change in front of her or shower with her, although she has no qualms about changing in front of me, or sleeping naked with me. She is beautiful, clothed or not, and I know I'll never compare. Then, I suppose she'd tell me I don't have to.

We talk about maybe moving in together, someday. I would love that, actually – I've never felt safer, or more comfortable, anywhere other than her arms. I love her, and I make sure to tell her so – every morning when we wake up together and I'm thanking God that I'm still here, and every night before I fall asleep.

I was fourteen the first time I tried to kill myself. Well, technically you could say I was eight, but that wasn't a serious attempt. I was a stupid little kid who actually thought I could die if I shoved too many Q-tips up my nose. That was before I learned the science of it.

I learned that it is much easier to kill someone else than to kill yourself. To kill yourself, you have to calculate time divided by bearable pain, and for me, that was never much. Which was a bit ironic, come to think of it, considering that the point of killing myself was to get away _from _the pain. Go figure.

The first time I tried was the first time she hit me, and told me I deserved it. I thought that maybe everyone was right and there was something wrong with me, and I thought I wanted to die.

I was wrong, of course. Dying is a very complex, difficult thing, and it has to be a long, drawn-out decision. People say that suicide is the coward's way out, but they're wrong. The thing that humans fear most is the unknown, and that's why it takes more strength than to commit suicide than to keep living a life of pain.

The first time, I miscalculated. I started to cut my carotid artery – we'd learned about it in science the week before, but I didn't realize that I would faint at the sight of blood before I even got close. I guess it's different when you're the one inflicting the pain on yourself, but here's the thing – I never wanted pain. I wanted oblivion. I wanted death. If I'd wanted pain, I would have forgotten to set the table or gotten a B on a test or done something equally reprehensible that would have earned me a beating from my parents.

There were a few more attempts, with pills mostly, but I never took quite enough. I always chickened out first. Until that last time.

I was fifteen, and it was the week after she'd broken up with me. I took exactly the right number of pills this time, but I woke up in the hospital and it was the most disappointing feeling in the world. And of course, the nurses had seen the marks all over my body.

What's black and white and red all over? Me. Me with bruises and welts and burns. But I didn't say that when the little girl I babysat for told me that joke. I laughed, even though it wasn't funny. Back then, nothing ever was.

But no one ever helped me, and since I knew that they never would, I never tried again. I was a failure even at self-destruction.

Now I'm glad I never succeeded, though. I always thought that I might as well just kill myself because there was no hope left for me, that no one would ever be able to love me. But now someone does. I'd never even allowed myself to dream of such happiness when I was younger, but if I'd known then that I would have Olivia, I would have been able to cope with the pain so much better. Here, in her arms, I know that finally I'm home.

* * *

I pick up some flowers for Olivia one day on my way back to her place – on my way _home _– from work. Daisies, her favorite. She's working a bit late today, but she's promised that she'll be home for dinner.

I decide to make her a nice, romantic dinner. I can make veal scaloppini and we can have fondue for dessert. I can put the flowers in a vase, and put out some candles, and use the good silverware and tablecloth – assuming she has a nice one, that is. Olivia doesn't have much time for those kinds of things.

The apartment door opens an hour and a half later. "Alex!" she calls. "Where are you?"

I come out of the kitchen and give Olivia a smile and a kiss. "I made you dinner. Go get changed."

Her face softens into a look I can only describe as pure adoration, and she tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's the occasion?"

"True love. There doesn't need to be an occasion. Go!"

She smiles. "You are so sweet, Alex. I love you."

She goes to change into a nice dress, although she very rarely wears dresses – only when someone forces her to. I light a few candles and put them in the kitchen, and set the table.

Olivia comes into the kitchen a moment later and sits down at the table. She beams at me. "This is wonderful, Alex. Thank you."

I smile back. "I'm happy if you are." I'm really just saying to her what she always says to me, but it brings a tear to her eye.

I reach across the table to take her hand. "I know I'm not a cook, but is it okay?"

She takes a bite of the veal. "It's delicious."

"And we have fondue for dessert!"

"Strawberries? Bananas? Blueberries? Raspberries? All of the above?"

"Yes, and better. Your favourite!"

"What's my favourite?" she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

"Marshmallows!"

She grins and kisses my hand. "That does sound even better!"

We eat in comfortable silence, and then I cut up some fruit and set out the marshmallows with a chocolate sauce I made out of melted chocolate chips. When we're done, Olivia insists on helping me clean up.

"You made dinner," she says. "It's the least I can do."

I don't feel like arguing, so I let her.

I go sit on the couch and Olivia turns on the fireplace. She finds a thick, warm blanket and drapes it over me. "I can make you some hot chocolate if you like."

I shake my head and pat the seat next to me. "Come here. I'll give you a massage."

She sits down, pulls the blanket over both of us, and smiles. "You're amazing, you know that?"

I smile and kiss the base of her neck, and I start to knead her shoulders, releasing their tension. "I've learned from the best."

She closes her eyes and lets me massage her shoulders and upper back in silence, just as she's always done for me when I need it. I love her so much.

When my hands are aching and her shoulders are a bit less tense, I stop, and Olivia leans back against me, resting her head on my shoulder and taking my hands in her own. "Thanks, Alex," she says quietly. "I needed that tonight."

I give her a smile. "I know."

She kisses each of my fingers. "I love you, princess."

I chew on my lower lip and make a decision. "Do you want me to run a bath?"

She shakes her head. "I want to spend some time with you."

"No, I mean – both of us take a bath."

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Yes. Yes, I'm sure. Today is the day, and I can do this. I nod, and kiss Olivia's cheek. "I'm sure."

Her face breaks into a smile. "Great. I'll go get the lavender bath salts if you want." She catches the uncertainty ghosting across my face and says quickly, "You can keep a t-shirt on if you like, or one of my swimsuits. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"No, I'm okay."

She goes to run the bath and I take a deep breath, bracing myself. I can do this. I can do this. Yes, I can. Olivia's here, and she'll let me go at my own pace. I know she won't hurt me.

"Alex, the bath's ready!" she calls, and I go into the bathroom. She's undressed and is sitting against the bathtub. "You okay?"

I take another deep breath and nod. I'm feeling brave tonight. This will be just fine. Better than fine, in fact. Olivia loves me, and I know she'll be proud. I know she already is.

Biting my lip, I start to take off my shirt. I'm not afraid of Olivia, but I've never really done this before, not like this, and I start to tremble.

I can tell Olivia wants to wrap me up in her warm embrace, but she holds back. She waits to see what I'll do next, and I love her for it.

With shaking hands, I manage to remove my shirt, and then hug myself instinctively. "Liv?" I whisper, hating myself for this show of vulnerability but needing the reassurance now.

"Yeah, baby?"

Her eyes are full of compassion, and all of a sudden I want to cry. "Just, please – please don't tell me I'm ugly."

"Oh, sweetheart." She holds out her arms, and this time I walk into them, and allow her to soothe me physically as well as emotionally. "I would never tell you that, Alex, because you're not. You are beautiful. _Beautiful_. Do you understand?"

I rest my head on her shoulder and nod.

She lets me stay like that for a moment, and then lifts my chin. "You ready?"

I step back and take off my pants. I can't help my self-consciousness – Olivia is so beautiful, and no matter what she says, I know I'm not.

Finally, I'm fully undressed. I'm still trembling, but when I meet Olivia's eyes, all I see is empathy, and pride. And _love_.

She takes my hand and helps me into the bathtub. She guides my head to rest on her shoulder and kisses my shoulder blade. "I'm so proud of you, princess," she whispers. "You are so brave, and I love you so much."

She starts to rub my back, tracing my scars but not focusing on them, running her hands over my entire back and covering the marks with gentle kisses. I relax into her, knowing that I've made the right decision, that I'm ready now. I love Olivia. I trust her. And it feels _nice_, to be able to do this with her.

"You're beautiful," Olivia whispers, and kisses the crown of my head. "So, so beautiful."

I drop my gaze. "My scars –"

"Your scars aren't ugly, Alex. They show how strong you are. Battle scars. And besides, when I look at you, they're not what I see. I see _you_. And you are the most amazing woman in the whole world."

"Oh, Liv." To my horror, I find tears rushing to my eyes. Olivia gently brushes them away, and I smile at her. "I am so lucky to have you."

"No, Alex. I am."

"We both are. We have each other."

**Review for chapter eighteen!**


	18. Chapter 18

A week later, Olivia wakes me up at 4:30. "Rape vic at Mercy General," she says, and kisses my forehead. "I'll see you later, okay?"

I roll onto my side. "Can I come with you?"

She seems to be considering. It isn't explicitly against any rule I can think of, and sometimes I do come with her or Elliot to interview victims at the hospital, but this time there's no real need for me to, except for the simple fact that I don't want to be away from Olivia right now. I didn't manage to get to sleep until one in the morning, and I woke up every hour with nightmares. Olivia had just finished soothing me back to sleep when she woke me again.

"Sure," she finally says. "But you have to get up right about now."

"Of course."

I pull on a pair of pants and a sweater, and we get into the car. Olivia drives down to the hospital and we walk up to the third floor together. Elliot, apparently, is out of town for some seminar, so it's just her and I for now.

A nurse points us in the right direction, and Olivia flashes her badge to get us through. We go to room 389, where the rape victim is lying in the bed, looking small and vulnerable and – no. Oh, no. No. I recognize this woman, even so many years later. No. It can't be. It isn't true. Please, God, let it not be true.

It's _her_. But all these years later, with Olivia by my side, she doesn't look so intimidating. She looks weak. Fragile. She can't hurt me anymore.

Olivia notices that I've started to tremble, and she discreetly takes my hand. "You okay?" she murmurs.

I nod. I can't tell her, not just yet. I know, eventually, I'll have to recuse myself from the case, but I don't need to go through all this now.

She doesn't seem to recognize me, anyway. I know she'll put two and two together the moment Olivia says my name, but right now, she doesn't. In fifteen years, I've changed. I'm not the vulnerable little kid she used to beat half to death way back then. I'm different now, stronger even. I have Olivia.

Olivia pulls up a chair beside the bed and offers it to me, but I'm too keyed up to sit. She sits down and says, "Ms. Stevenson, I'm Detective Benson, and this is ADA Cabot. She's going to be prosecuting your case."

"You can call me Leah," she murmurs, and opens one eye. She looks more closely at me, and then I see the recognition in her eyes. "Alexandra?"

All of a sudden, I can't breathe. "Liv – I need –" I murmur, but she doesn't seem to hear me.

"You know Alex?"

Leah nods weakly and lays her head down on the pillow. She glances at me and then looks away.

"Liv –" I start again, but she still isn't listening.

"So, Leah. Can you tell me what happened?"

She shrugs. "What's there to tell? My husband beat the crap out of me and raped me. That's all."

She says this without a shred of emotion, but all I hear is "husband." She has a _husband_. Was she just using me all those miserable years? Because I was convenient? Because I was an easy target? Because she just wanted to hurt me?

Olivia glances at me and sees that I'm still shivering. She puts a hand on my arm. "Alex?" she whispers.

I don't answer. I'm staring at Leah, willing her to just disappear, or for the ground to swallow me whole.

They talk for maybe another hour, but I don't hear a word of it. I'm too busy remembering.

There we are, holding hands as we walk through the park. There we are, out on her father's yacht. There we are, out for gelato.

There I am, in the emergency room with a black eye and three broken ribs. And she's nowhere to be seen.

"Alex?"

I jump, and Olivia takes my hand.

"We're done," she murmurs. Then she says to Leah, "I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

She nods, eyes still closed.

Olivia leads me out of there, and waits until we're back in the safety of her car before she says, "What was that all about?"

My head snaps up. "What do you mean?"

"You're upset, Alex. I can tell." She caresses my cheek; a "take it easy" gesture. It doesn't help.

"Leah –" I begin, then stop. Do I really want to tell her? Now? Ever?

I don't have a choice.

"She was the one who hurt me."

Olivia's eyes widen, and she claps her hand over her mouth. "Oh, my God."

I duck my head in shame.

She reaches out and starts to rub my back. "I'm going back in there to kick her ass all over again."

I flinch at the touch and shake my head. "What good would that do?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I _am _telling you."

"No, I mean – at the beginning."

I shrug. "She's a victim now, Liv. It's not so simple. It's your job."

"She deserved it," she says vehemently.

"Oh, Liv. You know she didn't. No one deserves to be raped."

She sighs. "Yeah, I know. But – how are you being so mature about this, baby? She hurt _you_. In my mind, she deserves what she gets."

"I hope a jury doesn't agree."

"You can't prosecute this, Alex."

"I know. I'll recuse myself tomorrow."

Olivia sighs again. "She was abused, when she was a kid. She told me. I know you weren't listening." Then she shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. She still hurt you, and I still want to kill her for it."

I think that somewhere, deep down, I've always suspected she was. But like Olivia says, it doesn't matter. She beat and raped and terrorized me – even now, I'm afraid. I hate her, but all the same, I feel sorry for her. What she did to me was horrible, but she had the same thing done to her, and she didn't deserve it.

Neither did I.

Olivia sees the sadness in my eyes and pulls the car into a parking lot. She takes me into her arms and kisses my forehead, but I can't quite relax in her embrace.

"I love you, Alex," she murmurs, gently stroking my hair. "Nothing will ever change that, no matter what. You're my princess."

"I love you, too, Liv," I say, and rest my head on her shoulder. "I – please don't do anything to Leah. It's been a long time. She's changed. I can see it in her eyes. She's . . . broken." I drop my gaze. "Like me."

"No, you're not," says Olivia, lifting my chin, her eyes boring into mine with a ferocity that makes me want to squirm away, but I don't. "You're _not_, Alex. You're an amazing woman, so brave, so strong, and so, so beautiful. You're not broken at all. You're _perfect_."

"Oh, Liv." I cup her cheek and try to smile. "Maybe to you."

"Yeah." She kisses the crown of my head. "You're perfect to me."

I curl into her embrace. "If everyone had a girlfriend like you, the world would be a better place."

**Review for chapter nineteen!**


	19. Chapter 19

Olivia takes me home, even though I tell her that it's 7:00 and it's almost time for work. "It's okay," she says, waving a dismissive hand. "We'll be late. You're more important." This time she says the words aloud, and they make me glow inside.

She takes me inside and makes me a cup of tea, and turns on the fireplace. She finds some blankets and pillows in the linen closet and sets them down on the ground, then lays down and pats the space beside her.

I lie down, and she wraps her arms tightly around me. "It's okay," she says, and kisses my forehead. "Everything's going to be okay."

But it won't be. Leah hurt me, but now someone's hurt her. Am I supposed to feel sorry for her or still hate her for what she did to me?

"I can ask Cragen to hand the case off to Brooklyn SVU if it makes you more comfortable, princess. It's open and shut anyway, and you'll have to recuse yourself."

"No – no. It's okay. I don't want – you have to – it's your job."

She gives me a kiss. "_You _are my life, Alex. It's my job to take care of you, and make you feel safe."

"When I'm with you, I do feel safe."

"Oh, baby, you are. You _are _safe with me."

I kiss her cheek. "I know."

"So do you want me to hand this case off? I will, if that's what you need, Alex. Without a second thought."

I chew on my lower lip and finally nod. "Thank you," I murmur.

She lifts my chin and gazes right into my eyes, and it's like electricity all over again. I love her so much.

Olivia gently rubs my back. "We can call in sick to work –"

I want to. God, I want to. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine." I have to be.

"If you need anything –"

"I know."

"I mean it, Alex. _Anything_."

I curl into her embrace. "Oh, Liv. I love you so much."

"I love you, too, baby." She smiles. "But you know that."

I smile back and brush her hair out of her eyes. "Want to get in the shower with me? If we don't hurry, we'll be late for work."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Work starts at eight – at least for me – just like it does every day."

She smiles a bit. "Not that. I mean – the shower?"

"I'm sure." I hold her gaze. "I feel safe with you, Olivia. You know that's the truth."

Her face softens, and she holds out her hand to help me to my feet. "You are the strongest woman I know, Alex. I admire you so much – and love you even more."

I kiss her cheek. "You're the first person who ever told me that."

She cups my cheek. "Then I will tell you a million times, because it's true. I know you never really had anyone before me, but I'm here now, and I'll never let you go, I promise."

My heart melts, and I squeeze her hand. "Come on. Let's get in the shower."

* * *

Olivia picks me up from work, and she does everything she can to take my mind off things. She takes me out for dinner, to my favorite restaurant, and then we go see a movie. I spend most of that time studying her and grinning every time our fingers brush as we reach for popcorn. Then I realize that she's doing it on purpose, and it makes me smile even more.

It's 10:30 when the movie lets out, and I cling to Olivia's hand for the whole ride back to her place. She strokes my hand and kisses my fingers when we reach a red light, which is just about the sweetest thing.

When we get home, we climb into bed together, and she holds me until I fall asleep. If this morning was tumultuous, to say the least, tonight more than makes up for it. Olivia loves me, and she never forgets to show it.

* * *

"_Alex!" calls a voice from far away. "Help me!"_

_Leah is standing in the distance, crying. I don't know why, but something is very, very wrong._

"_Alex!" she screams again, and I try to go to her, to comfort her as I always wish she would comfort me, but I can't move. I'm in a cage made of glass, and try as I might, I can't break it down. The walls – they're closing in on me, and I'm falling, falling –_

* * *

"Alex."

I start awake to find Olivia looking down at me, compassion in her eyes. I try to say something, to apologize, but as soon as I open my mouth, I burst into tears.

"Shh," she soothes, gently stroking my hair. "It's okay, Alex. You don't have to say anything. It was just a dream. You're okay."

I take a deep breath and try to relax in her embrace, but the nightmare – mild as it was in comparison to my usual ones – has really shaken me up.

"It's okay," Olivia repeats, and starts to massage my shoulders, relieving them of their strain. "I love you, Alex."

That helps me calm down, just a bit, and I abandon myself to her warm presence and comforting words. She just holds me, rubs my back, strokes my hair, kisses my forehead. It's what I need right now, and she knows that.

After awhile, she says, "What can I do to help you, princess? I know today – yesterday – was a huge shock, and I am so sorry about that. What can I do for you?"

I can't say anything. I just keep crying, and try to murmur an apology.

"Hey, you've got nothing to be sorry for," she says tenderly, lifting my chin and smiling right into my eyes. "It's okay to cry if you need to, baby. I'm here. You're safe, and you never have to be sorry for crying."

I nod and lay my head down on her stomach, letting her soothe my fears. Finally, when I run out of tears, I whisper, "Liv?"

"Yeah, baby?"

I swallow hard. "Liv, I – I want to go see her."

I know that she knows who I'm talking about, and she seems to be considering for a moment. "Oh, sweetheart, I don't think that's such a good idea."

I bite my lip and shake my head. "No. I think – it's something I have to do. For myself."

She looks right into my eyes. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"No." I chew on my lip until it bleeds. "But it's what I need."

Olivia takes a tissue from the nightstand and presses it to my bleeding lip. "Okay," she finally says. "I'll come with you. If you want me to."

I take her hand and give it a squeeze. "Thank you."

She kisses my hair. "I love you, baby. I will do whatever it takes to help you."

I try to smile, although I'm downright terrified of what I know I'm going to do in the morning. But I have to be brave. I _have _to be.

**Review for chapter twenty!**


	20. Chapter 20

The next morning, Olivia makes pancakes for breakfast, and I wake up to their delicious aroma. We eat together, and Olivia hesitantly says, "Do you still want to . . ." She trails off.

"Yes," I say firmly, before I chicken out.

"When do you want to go?"

"When will you take me?"

She smiles a bit. "Whenever you want to go."

I smile back. "We're not getting very far, are we?"

"No."

I bite my lip. "Can we go now?"

"As in right this very moment?" She pretends to be hurt. "Don't you want to finish up these delicious pancakes?"

I chuckle. "In a few minutes, then."

"Okay."

* * *

We arrive at the hospital an hour later, and we go upstairs to Leah's room. I knock, and when she asks who it is, I go in, because I know she won't want to talk to me. But I need to talk to her.

We walk in holding hands, and Leah sighs when she sees Olivia.

"And that would be your girlfriend," she says dryly. She still looks small and vulnerable, the bruises standing out against her skin. She looks weak, as if she'd never be able to hurt anyone now, least of all me.

I squeeze Olivia's hand so hard that she winces and loosens my grip. "Yes."

"You came here to gloat," she says flatly.

I shake my head and sit down on one of the chairs beside her bed. Olivia sits down beside me. "No." I try to keep my voice strong – I don't want her to see my fear.

"Then what?"

I consider. "I don't know," I say truthfully. "I just – I wanted to . . ." I trail off.

"Don't tell me you missed me," she says, almost playfully, but it just comes out hollow. Dead.

"No."

"You know, Alex, it's been fifteen years. I wish you would just –"

"Forget it? Forget what you did to me? Are you _serious_, Leah?"

She sighs. "Fine. Then what do you want?"

"I loved you," I whisper, leaning back against Olivia to resist the urge to go to Leah, to comfort her. Strong as she's trying to be, I see the tears in her eyes, and I know that for her, firmness is a defense mechanism.

Olivia gently rubs my back, and Leah chuckles; a cold, bitter laugh, devoid of any true humor. "Oh, Alex. You were a baby. You didn't know what love meant."

I bite my lip, glad Olivia isn't interfering. I really don't want her to, at least, not yet. "Then why did you hurt me?" I finally ask.

She sighs again. "Oh, Alex," she repeats. "So naïve, even now."

"No, actually. I'm not. I know that what you did to me wasn't my fault. It was _yours_." But still, I really want the answer. "What did I ever do to you, Leah?" My voice is rawer than I'd like it to be, and it cracks. Olivia keeps rubbing my back, and it helps, knowing that she's here with me, and I'm safe. I don't know if I'd be able to do this without her.

"It wasn't what you did," she finally says. "It's what you _didn't _do."

"What didn't I do?"

She rolls her eyes. "That's what I meant. Naïve."

"Leah, I'm not here to play games. What didn't I do?"

She looks more closely at me. "You really don't know?"

"Would I be here if I did?"

"I told you – every time, I said to stay with me, but you didn't listen. You made me be alone with him! I tried to tell you – but you didn't listen. You didn't care."

"Leah, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"My father!" she bursts out. "God, you're so stupid! Every time I tried to tell you – every time – you let him come into my room. You let him hurt me!"

I remember, then. Her father – he scared me even more than she did. He always wanted to be close to us, to her. He did everything he could to separate the two of us, and I was more than happy to get away from her. I always thought it was just that he objected to our relationship on moral grounds, like my parents – she was just like me. I was blind.

But I didn't know. It's not my fault, and she can't blame me for that. Maybe she tried to tell me, maybe she didn't, but I was a child. She couldn't have expected anything more.

"You hurt me because I didn't protect you from your father?"

Then she's crying, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I still hate her, and I still fear her, but all I feel at this moment is pity. For both of us.

"Leah, I was fourteen. I didn't know. You couldn't expect me to save you from him, when you were doing the exact same thing to me! For such a long time, I thought I deserved it. You did that to me. _You_."

"I didn't want to hurt you, Alex –"

"Stop it, Leah. Just _stop it_. I've heard it all before, and I know that I didn't deserve what you did for me. I'm not a kid anymore, and you can't hurt me. I have Olivia. I know that she loves me, and she'd never do what you did. You spend so long trying to tear me down, but you failed. That's all I wanted you to know."

"You liked it," she bites out, slow and measured, as if she truly means what she's saying. But she's _wrong_, and we both know it.

"No, I didn't," I say with quiet determination, and I feel Olivia's nails digging into my palm.

Leah notices, and she smiles weakly at Olivia. "You want to hit me right now, don't you?"

I glance at Olivia. She sets her jaw and doesn't say anything, and I know Leah's right.

"Go on. Hit me. I don't care."

Olivia stands up and helps me to my feet. "No, I think we're done here." She says in an undertone, "Are you okay?"

I nod, and turn back to Leah for just a moment. "You can't control me anymore, Leah. That's all I wanted to say." And I walk out of there, hand in hand with Olivia, the love of my life.

**Review for chapter twenty-one!**


	21. Chapter 21

Olivia and I walk out to the car, still holding hands. "You okay, princess?" she asks again, giving my hand a squeeze.

I nod. "I'm fine." I kiss her cheek. "Thanks for coming with me, Liv."

"Oh, baby, I was happy to come." She smiles and holds me close. "I am so proud of you, Alex. You amaze me a bit more every single day. You are so, so brave."

I rest my head on her shoulder. "Thank you," I repeat.

She kisses my hair. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too."

"Are we going home or to work?"

I give her a smile. "I'd like to say home, but I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll tell the captain to give the case to Brooklyn. I won't give him any details – I'll just say I'm not comfortable handling this case. He'll be fine with it, I think."

"Thanks, Liv."

"Hey, stop thanking me. You're giving me a complex."

I grin and kiss her cheek. "Sorry."

"That, too. No sorries, no thank yous, and then we're good."

A/O/A/O

Elliot calls me around 2:00, saying they need a warrant. When I go to drop it off, he takes me aside and says quietly, "About the Stevenson case – it got transferred to Brooklyn. You know, if you ever need anything – I mean, Liv loves you, Alex. She's there for you. I just wanted to make sure you knew that."

Elliot's not comfortable with these kind of discussions, and I'd be vaguely amused if it wasn't for the anger bubbling up inside me. Olivia told _Elliot_! After she promised she wouldn't.

"What did she tell you?"

"Just – you know – she was your ex – and she . . ." He trails off, clearly uncomfortable, but I'm furious. Not at him, but at _her_.

"Where is she?"

"Interrogating a suspect. If you want, she'll be done in –"

I ignore him and stride toward the interview room. I fling the door open and say in my iciest voice, "Detective, I need to talk to you."

She winces. "Counselor, I –"

"_Now_." I don't look back, knowing that she's following me.

"What is it, baby?" she asks as soon as we're out of earshot.

My eyes are blazing, and she flinches at the venom in my tone. "Don't _baby _me!"

"Alex, I don't know what you're talking about."

"You _lied _to me!"

"What did I say?"

"That you wouldn't tell anyone!"

I see the recognition dawning in her eyes, and she claps a hand over her mouth. "Oh, my God, Alex, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to – he asked and –"

"You promised you'd keep my confidence! You betrayed my trust. You're just like Leah!"

"No, Alex. I would never hurt you like she did. I love you."

"You betrayed me! You promised you wouldn't say anything, and you lied to me! I can't trust you anymore."

"I didn't mean to, Alex! I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. It just slipped out. I'm so sorry."

"No. You are just like your father!" I know the words will hurt her, and in some perverse way, that makes me feel better. I want to hurt her just as much as I've been hurt.

She reaches out, grabs my wrist, and I scream. Not because I'm scared of her, but out of instinct. She pulls back in horror, and I see the tears in her eyes, and I bolt.

**Review for chapter twenty-two!**


	22. Chapter 22

I sit in my apartment that night, wallowing in self-pity and shame. I hurt Olivia. I said something so horrible – unforgivable, really. Olivia's worst fear is that she's like her father, and I know that, and I also know it isn't true. But I told her it was, on purpose, because I wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt me. Olivia, who has always been so good to me, even when I don't deserve it.

I can't kill myself. That would be too easy, almost. Besides, I don't deserve oblivion. I deserve pain.

I take one of Olivia's belts and wrap it around my hand. I've never done this before, but I know I can. I take it and swing with all my might. I can pretend it's her that's hitting me, as I deserve.

The belt curls around me, hitting my back, leaving a perfect red stripe in its wake. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would, but I know if I hit the same spot three or four more times, the welt will break open and it'll bleed. Good. I want to bleed.

I hit myself over and over again until I'm crying and my back is a bloody mess. I don't clean it up, though. I flop down on my stomach on the bed and I cry and cry and cry. Because no matter how much I hurt, it will never be enough.

I freeze when I hear the apartment door open, and wonder who on Earth it is. I stay as still as I can, just in case, and then I hear the footsteps. It's Olivia.

"Alex?" she calls, and when I don't answer, she comes into the bedroom and gasps when she sees me. She runs to my side. "Alex, sweetie, what happened to you? Who hurt you?"

Her concern will be my undoing. I slide to the ground, and I curl into a ball, so I can be alone with my tears.

"Alex!" She sits down beside me. "Alex, please, tell me what happened."

I finally raise my head. "I wanted to hurt myself," I whisper. "Before you did."

Her eyes widen in horror. "Oh, sweetheart. No matter how angry I am, I will never, ever hurt you, Alex. That is _wrong_, and I could never do that to you." Her face softens and she holds out her arms. "Come here, baby."

But I'm in too much pain to move. Her eyes are full of sadness and it's tearing me up inside, but I know if I say something, I'll cry again, and I don't want to cry.

She wraps her arms around me and lifts me easily, being careful not to aggravate my injuries. She sets me down gently on the bed so that I'm lying on my stomach again. "I'm going to clean you up," she says. "Don't go anywhere. It's going to sting at first, but then you're going to feel better."

I shake my head. "I don't want to feel better," I whimper. The pain is searing with streaks of white hot fire through my back, and it hurts, but it's okay. It's physical pain. I can deal with that. It's the emotional pain that I can't handle.

"Sweetie, you have to. You don't deserve this. No one does. I'm going to fix you up, and then we're going to talk. After that, you can kick me out if you want to, but I need to make sure you're okay first."

"I won't kick you out."

"Good. I'll be right back."

She returns a moment later with antiseptic and gauze. She's silent as she meticulously cleans each welt and bandages it. It hurts, at first, but then it feels better, as she promised. Damn her. She has no right to touch me so intimately, not after all this.

Finally, she finishes and hands me a sweatshirt. I pull it over my head, just to cover myself up, and move to the edge of my bed, where she won't be able to see the tears in my eyes.

She doesn't come any closer to me, but she doesn't leave, either. "Alex, I wanted to say I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I didn't mean to scare you, and I never meant to betray you, or tell Elliot what I did. There's really no excuse. I know everyone you've ever trusted has let you down, and I promised I'd be different, and I failed you. I am so, so sorry for that. I understand if you're not able to forgive me now, or really ever, but I hope that someday you will. And I'll give you as much time as you need if you still want to, eventually, be with me."

Damn her again. I was never mad at her, really. I was mad at myself. I still am, actually. She's being so good to me, even now.

I start to cry. I try to stay quiet about it, but even if she can't hear me, Olivia can always sense my tears. She moves a bit closer to me, then stops, as if she doesn't think it's her place to comfort me anymore. "Don't cry," she says quietly. "Please don't cry, Alex. I didn't mean to upset you." She takes a deep breath. "I don't like seeing you sad. It makes me sad, too."

I know it does. And suddenly, I can't help myself. I slide over to her, climb into her lap and curl into her embrace as I always have, and again, it feels like home. I feel so safe, here in her arms, even now.

She seems surprised at first, but then she holds me and gently kisses my hair, and I relax into her embrace. "I'm sorry I said you were like her, or like your father," I whisper. "You're nothing like either one of them, Liv. I know you'd never hurt me. I was just angry, but that's not an excuse."

She presses her finger to my lips. "Shh, it's okay, Alex. I forgave you already. I know you didn't mean it." She removes her finger and kisses my lips. "I love you, Alex," she says, and it's like I'm hearing the words again for the first time. I bury my head in her shoulder, and she doesn't even mind that I'm getting her shirt wet. She just rocks me in her arms, and I know we're going to be okay.

**Review for chapter twenty-three!**


	23. Chapter 23

**I've decided this is going to be the last chapter. Enjoy!**

I fall asleep in Olivia's arms, worn out and still hurting, and when I wake up with a bad dream, she's still here. I can't even begin to express my love for her at this moment. She loves me – I know she does, and even after all I've done, she's still here with me.

Olivia kisses my forehead, sounding uncertain for the first time tonight. "Do you want me to go? If you're not comfortable –"

"No, I want you to stay," I say quickly, because it's true. Then I realize how demanding that sounds and amend, "Will you please stay?"

She smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Of course."

She lies down on my bed and pulls the duvet over herself. She pats the space beside her, and I lie down too, but wince when the pain sears through my back once again. I bite my lip to keep from crying out and roll onto my stomach.

Olivia wraps an arm around me and strokes my hair with her other hand. "I love you, sweetheart," she whispers in my ear, and within minutes I'm asleep again. Here, with Olivia, I know I'm safe.

* * *

By the next day, we're back to normal. We don't talk about Leah, or Elliot, or the horrible things I said to her, or the healing welts on my back. She cleans the wounds for me, twice a day, and stays at my apartment indefinitely. I'm hoping that she'll move in with me soon, officially, but I'm really not in any position to make such a request.

* * *

Two weeks later, it's my birthday. For me, birthdays have never meant much, except one less year I needed to go on living, but Olivia insists on making a big deal out of it.

"I don't think so, Liv," I say with a sigh. "Birthdays don't really put me in a celebratory mood."

"They put _me _in a celebratory mood," she says. "An extra special day to celebrate how glad I am that you're here."

What can I do? She's so sweet, and I melt. I agree to let her take me out for dinner.

* * *

She gets back to my place at 5:30, bearing flowers – lavender, my favourite – and a gift. "We have a 7:00 dinner reservation," she informs me. "But first, I have something for you." She holds out the present.

I smile at her. "You didn't have to get me anything –"

She stops my protests with a raised hand. "I wanted to. I love you." Every time she says them, those words make me melt a little inside. She could say them a million times, and I would never tire of hearing them. "Indulge me," she says when I make no move to open the gift.

I start to gently remove the wrapping paper, being careful not to rip it. I want to save it – for posterity.

Inside is a book, one that Olivia's clearly made herself. "Open the card first," she says when I start to open it, and I rummage around for the card.

It's small, but handmade, and there's a picture of roses on the front. I open it, and the inside says simply, _You are my rose. Happy birthday, and may we share a million more. Love, Olivia_.

The card brings tears to my eyes, and when I turn back to her, her expression is just so priceless. Eager, but anxious, like a child on their first day of school. "You like it?"

There aren't any words for this. "I love it," is all I can think of, and then, "I love _you_."

I pull her close and kiss her, soft and sweet, and she indulges me for a moment before breaking the kiss. "Open your gift now."

I smile and do so, and gasp when I realize what she's done. She's written – and illustrated – a book for me. "Liv –"

"I know you're the one who's good with words, but I hope you like it anyway."

"Liv –" I try to hug her, but she gently pushes me away.

"Read it."

There's a picture of a princess on the front, who looks remarkably like me. Yes, that's exactly what she's tried to do. It's not the form, although she has that right, or even the obvious similarities – the pale skin, the blonde hair. It's in the eyes. She's managed to capture my determination, and still, my love for her all at once. It's perfect. "I never knew you could draw like this."

She smiles sheepishly. "I'm a woman of hidden talents."

"It's beautiful."

She rolls her eyes. "Do you analyze every gift someone gives you, or just gifts that come from me?"

I decide not to point out that she's the only one who gives me such gifts and open the book. _Once upon a time, there was a princess_, it says. _She was the kindest, the smartest, the bravest, and the most beautiful princess that ever was. She fought many dragons in her day, and was victorious against each one. Everyone in the kingdom adored the princess, especially her prince_. I smile a bit when I see that she's drawn a gallant prince, bowing before the princess, with her own head. My sweet Olivia. _The two of them faced many challenges, but they loved each other, and that was all that mattered. No matter what happened, they were strong enough to get through it. And the prince and the princess lived happily ever after._

I close the book and look up at Olivia with tears in my eyes. "It's beautiful," I repeat.

She pulls me close and finally kisses me. "You already said that," she says when we break apart.

"You've rendered me speechless."

"Ah! There's one for the history books."

"Thank you, Liv," I say, and mean each word.

She gives me another kiss. "Happy birthday, princess."

**And on a very sappy note, that's the end. Review if you enjoyed the story!**


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